Like A Cheesecake, Part III: Into The Light
by Clio S.S
Summary: The story of Josh and Alain continues. The name of the third part inspired by Falco and "Out Of The Dark".
1. Chapter 1

**A/N.** So, after three years I decided to continue the story. Originally, I planned only one part, Part III, but it just didn't come right... As I already stated in translation of the previous parts, this story writes itself. Not that I complain.

~Clio~

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 _To those who do not lose hope_

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 **1.** _ **  
(if there is someone by your side)**_

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Taking two stairs at once, Joshua Or achieved the second floor. It was, however, where his energy ran down - at least the physical one - making him finish the walk in a normal manner. His condition was still far from good, but - as he told himself optimistically - he _could_ jump to the second floor already. The more he 'trained', the better the result would be; that was obvious. He was aware that his fitness had improved a lot during those last months filled not only with climbing the stairs but also some other activities... Yet, Josh quickly ceased thinking of those activities when he nearly tripped and the bag hit his knee. He should be more careful with his shopping, he admonished himself; he shouldn't have jumped either.

Still, he was so hyped up...! Since the last autumn, he'd been driving to despair at least two people: the confectioner from the end of the street and Alain - but undoubtedly it was not futile! The problem was he couldn't find in Paris a cheesecake that he would admire as the one from Idealo. Someone older and wiser would tell him that it should be exactly that way: that those special things didn't belong to the daily life, and it was their uniqueness that made them particular - but it was not something Josh could understand yet, even though he perfectly grasped the idea of the 'icing'. Or so it seemed to him... On the other hand, who could regard a cheesecake as something special? Frankly, not even him.

Either way, sometime in October - having ascertained there'd been chances of success with Mr Clemente - he'd started to execute his plan of introducing a new cake into the assortment of the patisserie. A new type - the right one - of _cheesecake_. Whenever he'd happened to be present, Alain would look away (and probably sigh deep inside) upon witnessing Josh's performance of subtle nonchalance and appreciation mixed with flattery, its main message being as follows: How come there was no really good cheesecake in _Paris_? Mr Clemente would witness it indulgently, at first, but then he would start to seem troubled; finally, he would appear interested... and Josh would be more than willing to describe the greatness of that delicacy from the south. By that time, he'd already been pretty popular among the people on the street, and he would take advantage of it. Occasionally. After a few weeks, Mr Clemente had been completely convinced about the need to produce that wonder - although it remained unclear for Josh whether it resulted from the confectioner's professional pride or his wish to be finally left in peace. In any case, Josh had become the first taster in the 'Patisserie Bella', and quite critical, to be frank. It could be that Mr Clemente was secretly pulling his hair out upon Josh's constant dissatisfaction, yet he didn't seem like giving up, and that's how their co-operation continued.

Who was the second taster? Of course Alain - since Josh used to bring home Mr Clemente's all results of attempt to create an ideal recipe. However, it was rather hard to obtain a substantive opinion from Alain because his comments boiled down to: 'Good', 'Tasty', 'Quite okay'. Whenever Josh got into really suspicious mood, he started to doubt Alain's ability to tell cheesecake from any other pastry, for Alain would eat anything with the exact amount of enthusiasm. On the other hand, Josh was very grateful that Alain - and Mr Clemente, too - bore with his... whims. Undoubtedly, someone else would have had enough long ago, but those two must have had patience of an angel.

Josh put today's spoil (as an originator, he was given for free every cheesecake Mr Clemente managed to create) into the fridge and mused. Alain _really_ had patience of an angel. It still amazed him - and for two different reasons. The first was Josh himself, the other... Alain. Sometimes Josh couldn't just understand that someone was able to put up with him; that someone _wanted_ to be with him. It was so strange, so... new and unusual. And then was Alain - the man who, at first glance and judging from his personal history, seemed anything but patience incarnate. Was it about that promise that he'd made to Josh the previous summer? That he would never let him go, never leave him? Maybe. Even if Alain didn't look it, he had his honour. Even if once he'd been a delinquent and conducted himself in a way that would certainly rise objections in an outsider, he stuck to his commitments. At the same time, he lived by quite definite and clear rules and - contrary to someone else - didn't constantly cogitate on his decisions. If Josh would ask him about it, Alain would probably only give him a meaningful look and reply, 'You do know that,' without any need to dwell on the topic.

Josh smiled; every thought on Alain filled his heart with warmth. He was so impossibly happy that sometimes it seemed unreal. He still didn't know how he'd deserved such happiness... Yet, presently, whenever his thoughts started to head towards doubting that joy would last, he forced himself to change the topic. Dwelling on the possibly gloomy future was senseless; sensible was enjoying that joy to the fullest - and that was what he did. Besides, he recently felt that such a good luck in private life came at a price of bad luck in everything else. For previous twenty years he hadn't experienced so many different - little, stupid, impossible - harms as in the last half a year. He'd been robbed twice. He'd had at least three terrible colds, and once he'd slipped on the street and bruised himself painfully. He'd got burned in the kitchen several times and nearly cut off his finger on several occasions. Twice, he'd been short of one point on a test, and he missed by one day a deadline of submitting an important essay because the required book had vanished from the library, and had had to write another text. Metro had had a breakdown just on his way to the exam. He'd missed the chance for an extra stipend at the very last moment because of the change in criteria, and he no longer qualified. He'd torn his new coat on the door at the station and lost a scarf as well as his credentials. The upstairs neighbour had flooded their flat, and the TV one day had simply exploded... And so on. There was no week without something new - unpleasant - happening, and Josh had subconsciously begun to await another 'disaster', a kind of: 'What next?'

Josh realized his life until now had been very ordered and rather predictable; he'd contributed to this as a person with a strong sense of purpose and responsibility for himself, which translated into precision and attention. Now he would often catch himself thinking he had no control over his own life, that - in different circumstances - could be called unlucky. However, every time he reached such a conclusion, he told himself that if he were to choose between good luck in love and good luck in daily life... then there was no real choice at all. What would he do with all the luck of the world if his life didn't contain what really mattered to him? He knew perfectly well how it was: to live without love, all alone, all by himself, without a single person he could share joy and sorrow with. Right, as far as he was concerned, he would gladly trade all luck of his lifetime - and the next ones too - for Alain. Especially that it was much easier to bear with adversities together. Whenever he reported what had happened to him _again_ and how much he had enough of it already, and Alain reacted in one way or another - sometimes only with a glance, sometimes with some word - then those troubles could be easily forgotten. There was no point in attaching any importance to them; he just had to accept that misfortunes were part of life, too - and that was all.

The more reason to pick up and appreciate those positive things, he thought, breaking away from the reverie, and fixed his eyes on the fridge. His smile got even wider. He was almost sure that Mr Clemente had finally managed to create a cheesecake as good as the one from Idealo - at least in the meaning of taste - and hence his enthusiasm today. Quite another thing was whether Alain would feel the same way when treated with the same familiar pastry that someone else would be sick of long ago. Alain, apparently, was one of those people who ate everything and never complained about food - another thing they had in common.

Alain was out - he hadn't yet come back from his very indefinite work - but Josh _had_ returned home earlier today. Where Alain worked - and what he exactly did - remained a mystery since he didn't want to talk about it and Josh didn't press, aware of his secretiveness and desire to keep some things to himself. Alain shared his everyday - and everynight - life with him, so Josh had to let him have _some_ privacy. If he thought of it, he himself had some business Alain was unaware of; it was natural that way. What mattered was mutual trust, and that could be achieved without knowing the other person will all their aspects and details, right?

Josh let himself yet another moment of reflection before he set about making a dinner. They felt very good with Alain. After that incredible summer in Idealo, its memory still so unreal, they'd come back to Paris together. They'd rend a flat by rue Keller, close to the Place de la Bastille, in old but nicely maintained tenement house. Sometimes climbing the stairs up to the fourth floor drove Josh mad, but usually he motivated himself with health benefits. The flat wasn't very big, but two rooms with a kitchen and a bathroom were enough for two people. Even though windows looked to the inner yard, the place was bright, also because of light wallpaper. At first, Alain had been negative - it could be that the flat had reminded him of that shabby room he'd occupied back in Idealo - but Josh had taken liking to it at once, so he'd tried anything to persuade Alain to stay here. The main advantage was the location - close to the city centre and Josh's university, but far enough from the traffic and its noise - and the rent was very decent, for the conditions. Josh hadn't said it aloud, but the financial issues were important to him since it was Alain paying; his scholarship money could merely _support_ their household budget... He'd never wanted to expose Alain to more expenses than absolutely necessary, even if Alain imagined he was an owner of some fortune. Well, maybe he didn't since he'd found himself a job. And, as far as he was concerned, he could do anything, starting with cleaning the corridors, through working as a porter, and finishing with giving the maths lessons; Josh had no trouble imagining Alain as a man for every job. However, now that he thought about it, his ideas weren't so complimentary for Alain every time.

He shook his head and got to preparing a meal. It didn't matter whether Alain worked physically or mentally; he needed food nonetheless. Josh consider himself rather poor cook, but even he could make simple food - and one of his deep dark secrets was a correspondence course in cooking. Actually it was pretty amusing - and quite embarrassing - story that originated from Idealo and last summer. In short, as soon as she'd learned about his plans for the nearest future, Cecile had offered she would give him some cooking lessons and had been so enthusiastic about it that Josh had had to use all his wit to not offend her with his refusal - and it was what Erwin had advised him to do right away. In the end, it was Erwin that had got him out of trouble, telling his wife up front that she should first brush up her own skills before she started to teach others. It was hard to tell whose interest he'd wanted to protect in the first place, but the fact was that Cecile, who'd never lacked the ability to look at herself in a critical way, had swallowed down his remark and enrolled on a cookery course... and since then had been sending Josh all the materials, once she'd used and absorbed them herself. Apparently, she felt they were on the same side of the barricade... Josh didn't mean to miss that opportunity and would sometimes prepare something from the recipe... and kept tucking the consecutive issues of "Perfect Housewife" magazine behind the textbooks and notebooks, wondering occasionally what to with them once the academic year was over and he had to return the stuff to the library.

The dinner was already on the heat when Josh, washing the dishes, mused over his two friends he'd once again left in Idealo. The memory of the last summer could still warm his heart, even though there were things he remembered very vaguely, mostly due to the elation he'd been in... and chronic lack of sleep had done its job, too. Initial surprise of Erwin and Cecile when he'd told them what had happened during their absence. ('You really can't be left alone, not even for a moment...') Erwin's anger that no explanation could avert. ('Never in my life have I been so mad with you.') Josh's persistent attempts of alleviating the situation and nearly humiliating entreaties that Erwin forgave Alain after all. ("No, no and once again no! I can't trust him, and I can't understand how you can.") It'd lasted the whole holidays and indicated that good-natured and gentle Erwin had been really furious - because he'd always cared so much. Of course, Josh would never hold it against him, but he'd wanted that their relation be back at normal before they parted again, and hadn't given up. In the end, he'd got his own way, and in the last week of August Erwin not only had ceased shouting at him but also had met with Alain and had a real man-to-man talk with him, its content Josh could only guess at. And their parting at the station had been a show of the greatest friendship in the world... well, _would_ have been, if not for Erwin and Alain trying not to talk to each other and Cecile constantly giggling up her sleeve upon that comedy performed by the three men. It was with some relief that Josh had left Idealo although he'd known perfectly well that he would start missing his friends as soon as he reached Paris. And he did - but now he could bear with that longing easily since he had the most important person by his side.

He turned down the heat and ran down to throw the rubbish. On his return way he met Mrs Bonnet, who lived on the first floor and used to chitchat with him on a regular basis. Josh tried to maintain good relations with his neighbours, and he truly liked Mrs Bonnet, who, despite her talkativeness, was friendly and helpful old lady, and so he decided to spare her a moment now as well, mindful of the boiling dinner nonetheless.

"Well, you see, my dear, we've been wondering a lot about you and Mr Alain," the woman said right after her remark on the weather and rising prices of vegetables. "You don't look like brothers... Am I right that you've come from the south? I imagine Paris is expensive and not everyone can afford to rent a flat by himself. And, of course, it's always nicer to have a company of someone you've already known from before. I bet you attended the same school, right? You must've been mates in your home-town, haven't you? You seem very close friends... hmm?"

Josh opened his mouth to answer that, essentially, it held true, but that moment loud steps echoed on the staircase, and the two of them were passed by Pierre Roland, a young journalist from the fifth floor, who above all couldn't stand overly curious people; he must have been in hurry for the evening shift. Before Josh or Mrs Bonnet managed to greet him, he threw out, never slowing down, "I bet they're lovers, you nosy old hag!" The next moment he vanished on the ground floor, and only bang of the main door could be hear before the silence fell again.

Mrs Bonnet shook her head in disapproval and, upon seeing Josh's stupefied expression, spoke with a clear consolation, "No use caring about the idiots, dear. They only talk through their hats. And that specific one everyday seems as if he got out of bed on the wrong side." She looked down the stairs and then, in a voice that surprised Josh much more that the earlier remark of the journalist, she added, "He's probably jealous. Don't worry about it," she repeated and withdrew into her flat. "I've baked some cupcakes with custard, I want you to have some."

"My dear Mrs Bonnet," Josh choked out once he finally recovered from the shock, "we already have a dessert... some cheesecake from Mr Clemente... We really shouldn't eat so much sweets."

"Ah, I see," the neighbour replied with resentment, "my home-made baking can't compare with the delicacies of our precious Mr Clemente..." Then she blinked, even before he managed to oppose. "I'm of the opinion that eating _so much sweets_ will only do you some good. You're both so skinny. I bet university students often starve...?"

"Well no, it's not that bad," Josh laughed. "Even as we speak I have a dinner on the heat. Actually, I must go now..."

"In that case, I'm going to bring the cupcakes later," Mrs Bonnet decided, and Josh suppressed a sigh, asking himself inwardly whether Pierre wasn't right after all; neighbours _could_ be troublesome.

However, when Mrs Bonnet indeed stopped by some time later, the talk they had, proceeded in a completely different way that Josh had expected. First of all, the old lady didn't question him about the details of his living with Alain but instead told about her only granddaughter Anne, who a few weeks earlier, just before Christmas, had announced that she wasn't interested in boys and then, a bit later, introduced her friend to her parents.

"Her girlfriend," Josh corrected instinctively before he realized it.

Mrs Bonnet looked at him closely, and then nodded with some reserve before continuing her story. About how Anne's parents were astonished and disconcerted. About how they didn't know how to react. About how dejected was Anne herself, but also determined to have her way accepted. About how Christmas had been quite sad, its atmosphere far from normal. About how she herself had no idea how to talk with Anne and, in fact, didn't want to see her for a while - which pained her because she lover her granddaughter will all her heart. And how she still couldn't really pull herself together. Josh listened to it silently and no longer wished the neighbour shouldn't have come. After all, Pierre was wrong, accusing all neighbours of nosiness; it appeared there could be more behind it.

Finally, Mrs Bonnet fell silent and gave him a somewhat helpless look. It was obvious that conversation distressed her, and Josh wondered how he could console her. "You and Mr Alain too... You're not just friends, right?" she asked in the end, and Josh was sure it hadn't come easy to her.

He hesitated only a moment and then nodded, looking her in the eyes. Hiding it from her was pointless. Besides, they'd never particularly been hiding it; it was just that he and Alain weren't people that put their relationship on display. What other might think about them wasn't really their business. "No, Mrs Bonnet," he said. "We aren't."

The look in woman's eyes didn't change - there was still only sadness in it, which he welcomed with relief, but with some satisfaction too. For a while now, he'd been thinking that no contempt would meet him from her side, and now he was sure. "And how... how did your family reacted when... when they learned about it?" Mrs Bonnet asked in a low voice. "Your parents? Other relatives?"

The stab in his heart was so faint he almost didn't feel it. "I was orphaned in early childhood," he replied gently. "I have no living relatives... Well, in any case, I don't know of any. I was brought up by a foster grandfather, but he died long ago as well. Still, I'm sure that, had he lived-"

He paused, surprised, when Mrs Bonnet involuntarily raised her hand as if she wanted to stroke him on the hair. She lowered it right away; maybe she realized it was an adult man sitting in front of her. "I had no idea... Forgive me," she said.

He shook his head. "But I have two wonderful friends, who are like brother and sister to me, and support me in anything," he responded, smiling. He could never think of Erwin and Cecile without a smile. "And then there's Alain..." he added in a softer voice.

Mrs Bonnet kept staring at him with some greediness and seemed to listen to his words quite attentively. The flat was pleasantly quiet. In the kitchen, the fridge was humming; in the bathroom, water was whooshing in the pipes. Through the window came the sound of children playing in the yard. Slowly, it was getting dark; the January evening was falling.

"And you are... you are happy together?" the old lady finally asked, as if it hadn't been a few minutes since he'd spoken. "Ah, but you are," she replied herself at once. "You must be, everyone can say it. Someone who has such bright eyes and laugh that way can't be unhappy."

It made Josh smile again.

"Yes, that's it!" Mrs Bonnet went on. "How I wish Anne smiled like that, too...!"

"In that case, Mrs Bonnet, you should keep treating her as your beloved granddaughter," Josh stated the most obvious truth under the sun. "That's all what Anne needs now: support and acceptance of her family. People like me or her are often disliked by others, and thus it's so important to be able to rely on those who are important to us; that way, it's easy not to care about what other people think. I'm sure you can understand it...?"

The woman nodded slowly, and then her face brightened a bit; for a split second, she seemed much younger. "My husband and I... We got engaged against our families' will, and it was close that our parents turned their back on us. Long time passed before they accepted our decision... our love," she said in a lower voice, looking in the distance. "I can still remember how hard it was for me when my mother didn't want to talk with me. She didn't even want to see me..." She focused her eyes on Josh again and frowned. "Yes, you're right. No-one should experience such things," she admitted. "When I think that Anne... Now I see that I was thinking only of myself, how selfishly. Not for a moment have I thought of her and about how _she_ felt. I didn't imagine how hard it was for her, too." She wiped tears gathering in the corner of her eyes and took out the handkerchief.

"Mrs Bonnet, nothing happened that can't be undone," Josh rushed to assure her. "The most important thing is that no-one rejected Anne. There are many parents who cut themselves off their child completely upon learning that... he or she loves people of the same sex, even though it's not something one can control. But neither you nor Anne's parents did anything like that, right?" The woman nodded. "You see, Mrs Bonnet," Josh went on, "it's only natural that you were surprised. I think it's always a shock for a family," he tried to talk in a wise voice of a future psychologist, even though they had yet to study such things, so he simply trusted his intuition. "Usually, parents don't expect that their child will be... abnormal."

Mrs Bonnet flinched. "How terribly you speak now!"

"I don't like that word either," Josh replied. "'Normal' meaning 'common, occurring in most cases.' No-one can deny the relatives the right to feel sad, maybe even disappointed. I think such reactions are inevitable. People can hardly help their emotions... It's not about how old one is. Both parents and children have right to feel the way they do, just like everyone else. More important is not to hurt each other, not intentionally... Mrs Bonnet, you've forgiven your parents the way they treated you when you got married against their expectations, haven't you?"

"Yes. At first I was resentful that they didn't accept my choice, but then I understood that they were concerned about me. They wanted the best for me and were upset with my decision. I know they wanted me to be happy."

"But you also know that a person can create their own happiness only with their own hands, even if parents may think differently."

"Yes," Mrs Bonnet said again. "My husband and I lived over forty years together and were truly happy. Jean died two years ago..." she added in a softer voice and fell into silent reverie; Josh didn't interrupt her.

Only when the clock struck five he repeated calmly, "Everyone creates their happiness by themselves. I'm sure that Anne will, too. And I am equally sure that she won't suffer any harm from her family. You just need time to get used to her choice... not that it was any real choice..."

Mrs Bonnet looked at him and then clutched her hands on the fabric of her skirt. "I think we've already wasted enough time. I'm going to call her tonight and ask her to drop in the next Saturday."

"That's what you wanted to do all along, didn't you?" Josh guessed with a smile.

For a while, the older woman was silent, and then she answered, "Yes, you're probably right. I longed to see her all that time, I just didn't know how to treat her... and it seemed to me that new... thing stood between us."

"But now it'll be easier for you to talk with her?"

Mrs Bonnet nodded. "She's my only granddaughter. I've been loving her for eighteen years. Why should it change now?"

Josh straightened his back. "If you only knew how many people need such words... How many different people."

Mrs Bonnet wiped her eyes again. "Then you really... You really can be happy, too?" she asked somewhat shyly.

"Of course. Just like anyone with the right person. We are just like everyone else," he stressed.

"And there's no reason to be... concerned about?"

"Maybe Anne's girlfriend is a shady person...?"

"By no means!" the neighbour seemed offended. "A university student and a good girl."

"Then you see yourself," Josh replied, trying to remain serious. "And my Alain... He was a school delinquent, and now everything goes smoothly for us."

Mrs Bonnet blinked. "I haven't heard any complaints. Everyone here likes you because you're decent. And you can never be sure in tenements; sometimes it's all drinking and rows, night brawls and so on. Here, it's quiet, so the air is good. Except for that one from the fifth floor," she added sourly. "Fortunately, he keeps to himself."

"In that case, I wonder how Mr Roland..." Josh paused, deep in thought. "He couldn't possibly hear anything...?"

"Don't worry. In this kind of building, sounds hardly spread vertically," she assured him at once. "Sometimes you can hear through the walls, but your bedroom is by the gable, isn't it? It's impossible that the people from the next building noticed anything..."

"Mrs Bonnet...!" he called out with a blush.

"What? But you don't just sit and hold hands, do you?" she asked, and Josh had no idea whether her surprise was faked or not.

"I think you went from one thing to another too quickly..." he muttered although actually he felt like laughing.

"I just..." now it was Mrs Bonnet who seemed at a loss, "I decided to think of Anne and her friend... or about you and Mr Alain... the same way I think of my husband and myself. While we weren't angels, definitely not... I can tell you that we were intimate with each other until the very end." She mused, apparently deep in her memories. "I suppose you think it's obscene what I say, don't you?" she asked, looking askance at him, and quite provocatively.

"Of course I don't think that. Quite the contrary, I regard you as an exceptional person, Mrs Bonnet," Josh replied from the bottom of his heart and then burst out laughing, happy to notice that the old lady finally brightened up.

"That talk really helped me," she confessed. "I'm glad I had courage to come here."

"You can always talk with me," Josh said on the spur of the moment.

"I'd talk your ear off," she replied with auto-irony. "Thank you for today. I'd like to repay you for it..."

"Mrs Bonnet, what are you talking about? You're very strong. And you made a decision even before coming here, I've done anything..."

"You've done very much, my dear. I think I'll be able to finally talk with my daughter and son-in-law, for until now we've been avoiding that topic as if it didn't exist while in reality none of us could think of anything else. Ah, but we've eaten all cupcakes!" she noticed. "I'll bring more."

"But we still have that cheesecake..." Josh tried to protest.

"In that case, I'll be frank; I just want to have a closer look at Mr Alain," she confessed with a spark in her eyes. "A delinquent you say... In his youth, my Jean was pretty much a rascal himself, but after we married he settled down and became a teacher. I can't deny that I liked that cheeky smile of his, and sometimes I did miss it..."

Josh sighed inwardly; Mrs Bonnet started to overwhelm him. "Alain is very good at maths..." he said for some reason and then rebuked himself. Really, was mathematical skills the only thing he could praise Alain for before strangers? For Heaven's sake, he wasn't a kid...

"Oh, then, you know, maybe sometimes he could stop by and help me with household accounts?" the neighbour exclaimed buoyantly. "My eyes give me trouble, and my memory is no longer what it was..."

Suddenly Josh was glad Alain couldn't hear it. Apparently, everyone had a tendency to underestimate him, and Josh was the first... "I'll give him your regards, Mrs Bonnet."

"Tell him he's always welcomed for tea. Both of you are. Or I'm going to tell him myself." Josh rolled his eyes, hearing that. "Thank you, dear. You're really good and wise man."

Josh shook his head. "I'm very immature. I just say what I think," he replied, somewhat abashed, and looked down.

"Sometimes it's the best thing to do," the old lady decided. "Nowadays people too often hide behind glib words, while their hearts are full of envy and spite. Or maybe it was always like that, I don't know..." she said distractedly before fixing her eyes on him again. "In any case, don't worry about that hack. He would say anything to tease me. But this time he miscalculated, ha-ha!"

"Then, you think he doesn't really...?"

"Devil only knows. He's clever, I'll give him that," Mrs Bonnet admitted reluctantly, "so he might have guessed, if such an old hag like me guessed. But I don't think he would make a song and dance about it, he's not that type," she decided and got up.

"As I said, _you_ are exceptional, Mrs Bonnet," Josh said cordially, rising as well and wondering distractedly who it was that the old lady reminded him of...

He saw her to the door. In the staircase, she turned to him again and say, "I'd really love to do something for you, dear."

It was that moment that an inspiration struck him. He looked around to be sure no-one could hear them and then asked in a low voice, "Do you have some time to spare?"

"I have so much free time that I must busy myself with gossiping to fill it," she replied ironically.

"Then..." He hesitated, aware how stupid would sound what he was going to ask, but once he'd made up his mind... "Maybe you could teach me how to cook?"

Mrs Bonnet raised her eyebrows in astonishment, but then she patted him on the shoulder. "No problem, dear," she answered with sympathy. "Drop in whenever you like."

"I'm sure it won't be more than two, three times per month," he replied with some embarrassment, but he was really glad she hadn't commented his unusual request in any other way.

"I'll be pleased nonetheless," she assured him, and he could believe her.

"Thank you very much, Mrs Bonnet."

The woman smiled at him and started to descend the stairs. Josh closed the door and returned to the living-room. Looking at the couch and the armchair, where he and the neighbour had spent a longer while, he realized that from this day he would feel even stronger that he belonged to this place. The conversation with the older woman had pleased him a lot, but at the same time it reminded him of one thing that had been out of his mind for a longer time: that in this world were also people who didn't sympathize with the likes of him. That thought was almost bitter, but he could relieve it with confidence that at least Mrs Bonnet wasn't one of them. Josh smiled at the memory of the elder woman's enthusiasm. Yes, some people were good by nature and cared about others regardless of anything. As long as he had them around him, everything would be all right. Now he was even happier that he'd persuaded Alain that they stayed here; they might have ended much worse...

The sound of a key being turned in the lock interrupted his reflection and made his heart leap.

Alain returned home.

* * *

 _Millenium, "The Circles of Life"_


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**  
 _ **(my love will be in you)**_

* * *

Looking at Alain, who was disentangling himself from the scarf in the hall, Josh smiled. He couldn't help recalling how fast Alain had changed his mind about wearing accessories he'd never bothered himself with before. Accustomed to warm southern winters, Alain had been surprised how cold Paris might be in November. After he'd come home with his ears nearly frostbitten for a several days, Josh could no longer stand it and had timidly suggested that maybe a cap wouldn't be such a bad idea. He'd supposed he would have to persuade Alain for a longer while, but Alain had surprised him, returning nicely wrapped as soon as the next day, with his fantastic ears finally safe from the frost.

"Welcome home," he said happily as Alain hang up his coat and took off his shoes. Alain glanced at him from behind the fringe and smiled shyly as he used to. "You must be hungry. I'm going to warm up the dinner," Josh decided, realizing he sounded like a pure homemaker. Or an ideal wife. "I'm going to make you some tea as well." He turned to go to the kitchen, but that moment two arms embraced him from behind and Alain pressed him against his chest. Josh suppressed a cry of astonishment; Alain rarely gave him such displays of emotion. Not that he didn't like it.

"This will get me warm faster," Alain murmured in his ear, and Josh shivered. He couldn't hold back a sigh escaping his mouth, but the next moment Alain kissed him, stealing all his breath. Well, Josh didn't consider the dinner to be the most important thing in the world either, he decided, sinking into Alain's mouth, even if the position wasn't very comfortable... But, he remembered, when it was about the positions they both showed an incredible flexibility - and that thought made him feel hot. Right, Alain would get warm pretty soon indeed...

Finally their lips parted, but Alain still wouldn't let him go. "You know that recently you've been coming home later than me?" he asked in the same low voice as before.

"I know," Josh replied, suppressing another sigh. "I can't help my timetable..."

"I'm happy to have you welcome me today."

Now Josh didn't respond because suddenly he simply couldn't. For some reason, Alain was able to say _such_ things, out of the blue - and every time they made Josh lost for words. Of course, it only proved the trust they shared, that atmosphere, that mutual feeling... Still, Josh was always astonished upon hearing something like that from Alain. And every time he drew the conclusion that he was not the only one who enjoyed 'playing house', like he used to describe their living together.

"If I could, I'd do it more often," he assured Alain, mustering all his strength to get out of his embrace. "I think it will look better during the third year," he added in order to boost his spirit. "I'm going to have less classes..."

Alain hugged him tighter and let him go. Josh turned around... and kissed him impulsively. A voice in his head reminded him of the dinner and the tea, but he ignored it; he had to satisfy _this_ hunger first... For the umpteenth time he wondered how it was that they had been together for half a hear already, yet he still reacted to Alain like he'd got him for the first time. Maybe time didn't really matter...? Or maybe he simply tried to make up for three previous years...? Or maybe it was just that he'd never loved anyone like he loved Alain Corail and didn't expect he ever would? He remembered what Mrs Bonnet had said about herself and her husband only half an hour ago, 'We were intimate with each other until the very end.' Apparently, there was such thing as love of a lifetime, and that was what he wanted to believe.

Finally, with reluctance, he moved away from Alain and went to the kitchen. For his part, he could stay in Alain's arms for ever; however, unfortunately, there were also other things in life, and one of those was eating. Although, now that he thought about it, Alain more than eagerly gave him understand what it was he appreciated most from Josh's side. Maybe in ten years, or even five, it would change; maybe upon coming home he would shout, "Food!", right from the door - but it was not yet. Josh giggled, turning on the heat.

Alain returned from the bathroom, poured fresh water into the kettle and switched it on. Josh smiled and reached for the plates, seeing that Alain took out two mugs. "How was your work today?" he asked.

"Fine," came the concise answer. "How about you?"

"All well, too," Josh replied cheerfully. "Ah, right... I've just remembered about that free time… I forgot to tell you yesterday. My therapy is going to end this month."

Alain looked at him with a frown. "Is it good or bad?" he asked very directly.

Josh shrugged. "Good, I suppose. At least, I'm going to be earlier home on Tuesdays," he added with a spark in his eyes. "Besides... Well, since it's ending, it probably means that Mr Ageais decided I don't need more treatment," he said, stirring in the pot.

Alain gave him a searching look. "But the number of sessions was arranged right at the beginning," he pointed out, and Josh cursed inwardly; Alain's memory worked terribly well when it was about the details Josh would rather not remember...

He stared at the stew and decided it was no use prevaricating. "Actually, Mr Ageais does advise me to continue the therapy," he confessed. "To enter a different one, long-term therapy, but... But he also said that decision is mine," he added firmly. "He says that there is no _absolute_ need for such therapy at the moment. And I think the same."

Alain didn't comment; apparently he also thought that it was Josh's choice. Josh caught himself feeling strangely disappointed that Alain didn't protest. Ugh, it might be that, after all, he wasn't that sure of his decision himself... In the meantime, the water boiled, and the stew started to bubble, so he put it on the plates, then took it to the table. Alain set about eating readily; Josh could still feel Mrs Bonnet's cupcakes in his stomach, so he didn't plan to have much, especially that they had that cheesecake, too.

Eating slowly, Josh mused over the therapy he'd been attending weekly since last September, had it given him anything and whether he had needed it in the first place. Last summer, back in Idealo, he'd had a few appointments with a psychiatrist who had recommended him a therapy. However, returning to Paris - with Alain - Josh had felt perfectly well, at least in spirit, for his body still had to recover from several years of neglect, and especially the preceding one. It was Alain - who had accompanied him to every visit, which Josh wouldn't mind - who insisted that Josh should act according to the specialist's recommendations. Josh must have scared the living daylights out of him, climbing the church tower in the middle of the thunderstorm and planning to... jump down; no wonder Alain didn't want anything like that happen again. For his part, Josh had assured him many times that it was impossible; that what had happened, sort of had belonged to a different life; that everything had been all right now - but Alain had stubbornly kept returning to the topic. That was, to the topic of Josh's therapy, as for the event from early July - majority of the events - he'd nicely avoid them in the conversation. Josh himself felt rather conflicted about it: on one hand, he was ashamed of what he'd nearly done; on the other hand, he couldn't forget it was that time he'd 'won' Alain back. Still, he realized that it was very close that the two of them wouldn't sit here, together at last, happy at last, enjoying each other's company and their life. Had Alain come one second later, two seconds later... Josh would've been a damned soul in the Hell by now and would have never experience any happiness. For the most part, however, that incident seemed vague, distant, and abstract in his memory... as if it belonged to someone else. Josh was one-hundred-percent certain he would never think about doing such a stupid thing again.

So, once back in Paris, it had fallen on Alain to make sure that Josh would really go for the therapy, as the psychiatrist had ordered him to. All right, Josh had found a therapist himself, but no sooner than after a week of Alain's insisting. Josh hadn't known Alain could be so importunate... Yes, he must have definitely frightened him back in July... and that thought still filled him with remorse. In any case, it was with no particular motivation that he'd gone for the first meeting and told why he'd come in the first place, yet he'd left there with much more enthusiasm. Even if he hadn't believed right away that he'd benefit from the therapy, he'd found it amazingly pleasant to open his heart to the person of proper education, knowledge, and experience. Josh had been used to work with his own mind, yet it was one thing to lead inner monologues, and quite another to engage in dialogue with another man, interested in what had been happening inside Josh's head. Thus, he'd decided to continue his cooperation with Mr Ageais, and in the end they'd arranged sixteen sessions. He'd even learned that the therapy could be very useful in regard to his field of study.

Mr Ageais was still quite young man, with a very intense look in his dark eyes, and an air of professionalism around him. Josh had felt he could trust him, so he would talk with him openly. The therapist was interested in many things, above all Josh's views on world, people and relationships. How they would change depending on the situation. What kind of events would influence Josh the most. How he would feel and think in the face of misfortune. During those sessions, Josh had learned that his way of reacting had been moulded by what had happened to him in his early childhood (which he'd suspected himself already) and that he was extremely prone to depressive episodes in future as well (which he didn't want to believe at all). Well, he'd learned at least the basics of coping with depressed mood and everything it could bring about: low self-confidence, guilt and self-blame, feeling of hopelessness and apathy, and above all thoughts of death. Josh didn't expected to ever use it, even though a voice in his head occasionally whispered that he didn't know the future and his uncritical optimism was close to foolishness. Josh did realize that Alain's presence _now_ didn't automatically mean his presence _for ever_ , despite all his promises - yet, in this one matter he wanted to be optimistic or even ignorant, and thus he knowingly pushed out from his mind any thoughts about Alain ever leaving. Firstly, in his past there had been already a period when he'd kept preparing for Alain's disappearance - so much that in the end it really had happened; secondly, _they were really happy together with Alain_. Nothing indicated that state would change. And as long as Alain was with him, everything would be all right; he knew it as well as his own name.

Mr Ageais was of the opinion that it was exactly such thinking that required a longer therapy - and Josh didn't want to understand him and nearly felt offended with the therapist.

In any case, in January the therapy was ending, which meant Josh would be earlier at home on Tuesdays - and it was a very tempting vision. He could cook with Mrs Bonnet and wait for Alain with the meal, certainly better than those he'd prepared until now. To tell the truth, Alain never complained, yet Josh always felt anxious whenever he cooked from the recipe. It was quite another thing to learn from a living person, and he realized he was already looking forward to those 'lessons'...

They ate in silence - friendly, calm, and safe - and it was so natural that he still didn't cease wondering at this feeling. Once, he'd used to think he couldn't be silent with a beloved man, but it was not so with Alain. Long ago, in the early days of their friendship, he'd learned to be together without words. Of course they could converse if needed - and Josh was grateful for that, too - but it was also nice to spend time like now. Silence was often much more intimate than speech, and Josh usually told himself that his ability to appreciate it only showed that they were very close... and that he'd progressed a bit in life. Actually, it was with some embarrassment that Josh used to recall how talkative he'd been just a few years ago; maybe at least in this regard he'd managed to develop.

Still, he realized, getting used to silence hadn't come just like that, without any trouble - especially after they would sometimes talk at the same time in Idealo, last summer, as if wanting to make up for the three years. However, when they'd come to Paris, when the holidays had been over, and the life had become filled with daily work and duties (although Josh was of the opinion every day was a personal holiday for him), that need to talk all the time had simply diminished. Well, Josh had considered it a bit of waste of time - while with the man who mattered to him more than anything else, he'd like to enjoy it to the fullest, devote whole attention to him, and expect whole attention for himself - yet, in the end, he'd learned to occupy himself with something, mostly studying, while Alain used to do something else. And it too was good. Besides, to be frank, it was not so rare that they engaged in activities that would involve their mouth in a completely different way.

Josh snorted; Alain gave him a questioning look from under his plate and put the fork down. Still smiling, Josh got up and cleared the table. "I was thinking that I finally ceased being such a chatterbox," he said from the kitchen as an explanation, putting the dishes into the sink. "We don't spend the whole days talking any more."

"And that's what amused you so much?" Alain's voice was somewhat astonished.

"Nah..."

"Well, you may share that with me, so we can laugh together. I may not look it, but I have a sense of humour, too..."

Josh burst out laughing; he felt so light at heart. He pour some water over the plates and returned to the living-room. Alain was observing him intently. "But you don't seem to mind it...?" he asked, putting down the mug.

"You're kidding me?" Josh stopped by his chair and sat on the armrest, then leaned over and whispered into his ear. "We have better things to-"

He didn't finish, for Alain pulled him down onto his lap and shut him. Ah, right, Alain didn't like empty charades, so such teasing _must_ have led to previously mentioned activities... 'I probably wanted that from the start,' Josh thought, his fingers sliding into Alain's hair, and pulled his head closer. Desire burned in him at once - or, rather, exploded, for it burned all the time - and he was glad he was already sitting since he wouldn't be able to stand on his legs anyway. He ceased thinking and focused solely on the feeling, and his actions became instinctive. These were those rare situations where he could 'switch off' his mind, and it was a mercy. And he did lose the ability to speak whenever they went to bed - 'bed' being a relative concept. Like now.

Alain's body next to his own was warm, tensed, and his heart was beating quickly. Or could it be that Josh's own heart created that trembling in his fingertips, making all sensations so unusual? He trembled all over - from that longing that used to come back again and again, every day, and demanded satisfaction. It seemed he would feel it - and satisfy it - for the rest of his life, and the very thought was so wonderful he had to breath deeply. However, he quickly sank in Alain's lips, and Alain was more than happy to respond in the same manner. The fleeting realization that nothing in the world could compare with the taste of their kiss, suddenly reminded him of the cheesecake in the fridge. With considerable difficulty, he tore his mouth away from Alain and asked in a broken voice, even though something in his mind told him he was being an idiot, "Would you like to eat something else?"

Alain embraced him tighter and whispered, "Only you."

Josh moaned and forgot about cheesecake and all other rubbish. Alain's hand slid under his shirt and moved up. Josh gasped and tossed his head backwards, shutting his eyes tight. He'd never grown used to... the sensation of the fingers on his skin. Alain knew well the effect, and it pleased him; Josh felt the lips, currently occupied with his neck and clavicle, stretch in a smile. His fingers clutched involuntarily on Alain's hair as hot fingertips were stroking his chest and back. He couldn't hold back another moan, even though a quite clear thought occurred to him: he should return the caresses. The problem was the chair wasn't very comfortable place...

"We should-" he started, trying to get up, but Alain's strong arms held him down, and that meant it was no use objecting but instead he should stretch his imagination... that he'd never really lacked... only in the moments like this it appeared only a strangely sounding word to him.

When Alain busied himself with his neck and right ear, Josh began to unbutton his shirt. His hands trembling, his fingers faltering, and is head spinning, yet he was determined enough, and so, slowly, one by one, he succeeded in his task. Without hesitation, he put one hand on the tensed muscles of Alain's chest and then moved it to the centre to feel the beating of his heart. Whenever he did so, he became overwhelmed by a hopelessly romantic impression that that heart was beating for him... but usually it wouldn't last, for Alain would do something to banish such sentimental for good. Just like now... when he moved his lips down onto Josh's breastbone - and Josh realized his own shirt was nearly unbuttoned as well - and started to run the tip of his tongue over his skin. Josh gave a quiet cry when hot mouth came across his left nipple, and instinctively tried to withdraw - but, sitting in the narrow chair on Alain's lap, he simply had nowhere to go, so he could only give in to the caress.

In the meantime, Alain managed to unbutton his shirt completely and exposed his chest, and it was with relief that Josh welcomed the cooler sensation - not much since the heating was working very well - but not for long since, for that very moment Alain's hand slid under his belt. Josh tried to protest because, so far, he was the one to only take and give nothing, and it seemed unfair to him; Alain, however, lifted his face in a firm move and kissed in a way that Josh saw the stars under his eyelids and all feeling of guilt evaporated from his mind. He became a string attuned to Alain and knew that any objection on his part was pointless. Not that he fancied to object... Again, his fingers sank into Alain's hair, damp from the heat they radiated, and tried to return the kiss as much as he could - with a gruesome hope he wouldn't break his neck.

For a while, he managed to keep Alain focused on his upper body - Josh _loved_ it when those big hands circled around his waist or moved up and down his back - but soon Alain resumed his initial plan. Josh clasped his eyelids ever tighter as slim and purposeful fingers slid into fabric of his trousers, though, at the same time, he thought that, if Alain really wanted to do it here, he would undoubtedly end with a dislocated wrist... But, he remembered right away, Alain's wrists must have been pretty tough after all those years of playing basketball... And then he ceased thinking, for Alain's hand founded what it'd looked for, and Josh felt he was about to explode.

"Please..." he rasped, hiding his face in Alain's neck.

His capitulation was alarmingly fast. Just a moment ago he'd tried not to give up... yet now there was nothing he desired more than having Alain not to take back that hand which seemed to hold the whole sense of the universe. Well, not that it was anything new: Alain's touch would always deprive Josh of any free will; Alain could do with him whatever he pleased. It was quite a different thing that Josh was pleased as least as much...

Yet now, to his sheer distress, Alain stopped. Josh moaned and shifted impatiently - half-aware, half-involuntarily - in an attempt to provoke a desired effect; finally, he lifted his eyes. Everything was quite blurred before his yes, so it was more that he _sensed_ than actually saw a smile on Alain's face - or, rather, a smirk... Alain knew well how to deal with him... and Josh couldn't do anything, couldn't think up anything, for his brain resembled overcooked noodles. He gave a faint cry of objection, trying to focus his gaze on Alain's, and grabbed at that utterly frustrating hand that should... should...

Alain leaned to his ear, Josh could feel his warm breathe, and whispered, "Shall I do it...?"

But Josh could only make some inarticulate sound, for he'd forgot how to speak. He was breathing fast; actually, he wondered how come he still had enough air... Alain was looking at him for a while, but finally the mischief - that might be sometimes considered as malice - disappeared from his gaze, replaced by something deeper that turned his green eyes darker. Josh would have never guessed - maybe only subconsciously - that Alain, who liked to push him to his limits, had his own ones, too, and seeing Josh this exact moment - with that expression on his face, with lips parted, with hazed eyes, and with that _begging_ he showed in his all body - was such a limit. Never taking eyes off him, Alain grabbed Josh's hand and kissed its inside, and then resumed his action. Josh moaned again, probably trying to convey his gratitude and relief, and joy, and willingness, and anything... and most likely his desire he couldn't control.

Normally Josh would try to experience such moments more consciously and actively - after all, it wasn't about getting quickly to the end and going to sleep - but today something was different. Maybe it was that atmosphere, maybe Alain's impatience, maybe that untypical position... Suffice it to say that just a few moments and strokes of Alain's hand was enough to make his passion climax and spread through all his nerves, washing him on the shore called ecstasy. He pressed his body against Alain's, clasping his neck and burying his face on Alain's shoulder. He didn't want to be alone in this; it was obvious to him.

They sat like this for some time neither of them wished to count. Josh's breathing was slowing down, and his heart was returning to the normal rhythm. The feeling of bliss lasted. Only now he realized Alain was embracing him, his forehead resting on Josh's right shoulder. Once his head stopped spinning, he dared to open his eyes and look through the window.

The window.

For a moment, he tried to gather his thoughts and return to the right time and place. They should have drawn the curtains... if such a thing had occurred to them. On the fourth floor, they couldn't be seen from below, but the house by the next street wasn't that far. On the other hand, in that position there was hardly anything to see, especially that Alain was sitting with his back to the window; he shouldn't turn paranoid... But, just in case, they had better remember about covering the window if they felt like having sex in the broad light again. All right, it was evening already... but all the worse since the lights were up.

Josh shook his head to make his train of thought back on the right course because it seemed to him he was still dazed.

Alain was breathing quickly; his pulse was fast. Josh wondered whether what they'd just done, had shaken him as much as himself. Alain could seem a person used to calmly control the situation, but Josh knew better than anyone how much their intimacy mattered to him. Alain was always so tender, so concerned, and gentle, in a way... Josh smiled involuntarily. Maybe it was the reason why he reacted to his every touch as if it was happening for the first time, even though they'd been together for half a year already and made love countless times...? He couldn't imagine himself doing it with anyone else. He belonged to Alain, and Alain belonged to him...

Then he remembered how Alain had teased him today, and it was like a pinprick in that blissful. "You're terrible," he said, never loosening his embrace. "Not to say: awful."

Alain moved him away gently and gave him a surprised look. "I suppose you should rather say, 'I love you'...?" he suggested with a spark in his eyes.

"I bet it's what all those girls you slept with used to say...?" retorted Josh.

"No idea. Like you've already noticed, I slept," Alain replied with an expression clearly indicting he didn't consider the topic to be interesting.

"You're really terrible," Josh repeated and kissed him, coming to the conclusion he should probably find it flattering that Alain never fell asleep after _their_ activities. Well, for the most part. "But I don't have to say it, do I...?" he whispered.

"I like when you say it," Alain replied in a whisper, too, resting his forehead against Josh's.

"I love you," Josh said right away and sank into another kiss, so gentle, so very unlike that blazing ardour from just a moment ago.

"It never ceases to surprise me... that you're able to say something like that," Alain muttered, and there was astonishment to his words indeed.

Josh smiled. "Why, it's true," he replied outright. "Long ago, I wanted so badly to tell you that, yet I couldn't. You know."

Alain nodded; apparently, he too was probably reminiscing about how their relationship had started many years ago. "You should have..." he said reluctantly.

"Do you think it would change anything?" Josh asked in a sudden brainwave. "Besides, it's no use to think like that of the past. What matters is that we can be here. And that I can tell you that as much as I want." Alain hugged him tighter. "But..." Josh continued, having relished yet another moment of perfection, "instead of telling, I'd rather... prove you it. Joshua Or is a man of action."

Alain looked at him, and his gaze got sort of hazed. Then he licked his somewhat worn lips - Josh supposed his own ones didn't look better but would be back to normal by morning, like always - and nodded. Finally, Josh rose from his lap, and Alain himself got up, although with some difficulty.

"Sorry, I'm too heavy..." Josh felt remorseful at once.

"Heavy? With those protruding ribs of yours?" Alain sneered, running one hand through his sweaty hair.

Involuntarily, Josh explored his side before he remembered it wasn't the area that people used to grow fat at. He gave Alain a menacing look and, without a word, pushed him towards the bedroom. Since their moving here, he'd tried to eat more than just enough... but he would burn off most of it during _such_ attraction anyway. Besides, Alain was pretty thin, too, but Josh had to admit he had quite nice muscles; he could see them now, when Alain took off the shirt and threw it away. The light coming from the living-room was playing on his skin along with the shade of the room. They didn't turn the lamp on; dimness was more than enough for them.

The curtains in the bedroom were drawn, like always, but the reason for that was much more mundane than protection against the possible peepers: the window was looking south-west, and thus the room would become pretty hot during the day, and Josh, while he did like the heat, was of the opinion that he slept better in a cooler place. Yet, it wasn't cold here, surely not for the two of them in this moment. Josh got rid of the shirt as well, and then the rest of his clothing - and felt great, no longer restricted by anything. Relaxed. Satiated. And full of energy.

But Alain was still waiting for his turn, and it would never occur to Josh to let him wait longer than needed - even though Alain had teased him earlier. Well, he knew that Alain hadn't done it of malice, and that concluded the matter. Now, right before him, there was his lover - a man whom he cherished more than anyone and for whom he'd do absolutely anything. He drove away a fleeting thought that at the age of twenty his life was already _perfect_.

Alain finally flung off his clothes and turned around, and Josh, like always in such moments, decided he liked what he was seeing. Tall, slender frame. Nicely muscular upper body. Long, straight legs. Flat stomach with a line of dark hair running down from the breastbone to his groins. And right there, the best proof that frolic with Josh pleased him a lot. Josh felt he was getting aroused again, but he ignored that; now Alain had priority. Besides, he was aroused, more or less, all the time, so he'd managed to get used to it already.

He pushed Alain onto the bed (they only furniture they had bought to this flat, for the previous one had been simply _too small_ ) and jumped next to him. Before Alain had time to react in any way, he covered his chest with slight kisses, moving down until he reached the goal of that short journey. When he took it into his mouth, Alain uttered a muffled sound and hid his face behind one arm. Josh smiled but didn't stop, occasional jerking of Alain's tights being his reward...

Then, however, he thought that maybe all this was happening too fast and was too cold... Well, 'cold' was not a good choice of words, since it was rather hot in the room, but... some tenderness was lacking. Apparently, he was a hopeless romantic even in bed. He tore himself away from that part of Alain he considered perfect, along with all others... Alain gasped, obviously surprised by that sudden turn, but then warm lips fell on his own, making any verbal objection impossible. Alain embraced him and pulled him down, clearly not angered with that change of pace.

For a longer while, they would sink in one another, until Josh, somewhat reluctantly, returned to his original task. Judging from the sounds Alain kept making - even though he tried to smother it for some incomprehensible embarrassment (or fear that the neighbours would hear) - the break had brought good results. Well, he lasted quite long, Josh thought, recalling his own 'feat'. But, as it had been already said, when with Alain, he lost any ability to control himself, while Alain was apparently more... practised. Maybe he had cared about all those women a bit, after all? At least some of them? Josh played with that thought for a while and then drove it away from his mind, for he found it pointless. Alain was reaching his limit, he could tell it from his breathing and ever faster twitching of his muscles. He didn't release him until it was all over; only then he pulled himself up and cuddle up to him. Alain embraced him, and so they lay, marvelling at that moment and at each other.

Sometimes Josh would wonder how Alain put up with such tempo. For his part, he often came to the conclusion he was mad keen on sex. He could do it with Alain all the time and never grow tired; that was how their last summer in Idealo had looked like. He could do it in any possible way and never have enough; it was the pleasure they had that mattered. He could only assume that Alain felt the same - and Alain had never gave him understand he didn't like it.

"Was it good...?" he asked when his lover's breath became even.

"It was," Alain replied in a soft voice. "I always wonder how come you're so good at it..."

"I told you I used to read a lot," Josh answered, laughing.

"Right, education is the key; mister university student certainly knows it," Alain sneered, but there was laughter to his words, too.

"I just... For so long I imagined how it would be with another person... I suppose it just sank. And practice is another thing."

Alain kept silent, as if he was musing over something, and then he said slowly, "You know what's the strangest thing here? That after half a year you're still so enthusiastic as if it was your first time."

Josh opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him. Then, without a word, he rested against Alain's chest again. He had no idea how to react to such frankness, even though he knew things were exactly like Alain said. "But you don't mind?" he finally asked, having found no fitting riposte.

Alain only hugged him closer, and that was his answer. In his mind, Josh returned to his fantasies from before years... That if he had Alain, he would be satisfied with just holding hands. Now he thought he'd been ridiculous. To give up such moments, such words... such _compliments?_

"Then let me say I doubt it to change any time soon," he decided.

"Good," Alain replied in his concise style, and then he added, "I'm hungry."

For someone else, such a remark would surely spoil the mood, but Josh was pleased. "That's great, for we still have a dessert."

"Not a cheesecake, by any chance...?" something in Alain's voice didn't bode well.

"Come on. This time it _really_ tastes like that from Idealo."

"I've heard it already ten times, at least. I bet you don't even remember how that one from Idealo tasted, but you don't want to admit it," came the mocking reply. "But cheesecake is fine with me, too," Alain added quickly, capitulating to Josh's menacing look, or maybe to his own hunger.

"Then, I'll get up in five minutes and make us some tee," Josh said, unwilling to interrupt that moment right away, even though he knew the next one like this would come tomorrow, at the very last. It was how their every evening had been looking for half a year. How many of them still awaited them he'd rather not wonder; doing so would bring about more uncertainty and concern than fun.

Later, when fed with cheesecake and other, even better, treats, they were drifting off to sleep in each other's arms - to wake up in the morning on their respective sides of the bed - Josh heard Alain's soft voice, "Do you now... still have things you 'couldn't' say?"

He smiled with affection. "No," he whispered. "Maybe one, but you already know it..."

"Hmm?"

"I'd like it to always be like now. I'd like us to always be like now. I'd like that you never... let go of me."

Alain levered himself on his elbow and looked at him in the dark. "I'll never let go of you," he said without hesitation.

Josh fell asleep with a smile.

* * *

 _Nightwish, "Ghost Love Score"_


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**  
 _ **(świerki zapatrzone w horyzontu kres)**_

* * *

The Alps!

It was the first time Josh saw the mountains, now that he was standing in the middle of snow-covered valley and absorbing the view stretching before his eyes, the view beyond compare. The high walls jutted all around him, closer and farther; it was quite hard to correctly assess the distance. Coated with dazzling whiteness of snow, so pure under the February sun and blue skies, they enclosed him, shutting here, separating from the rest of the world. Such scenery was up there, and when he lowered his eyes, the spruce forest filled the valley, evergreen, although now whitely powdered. The town embraced by that forest - or, rather, coexisting with it - that they'd found themselves in, wasn't big, yet it had a church, and a school that seemed closed now. People were hardly to be seen; a car would pass by from time to time. The bus that had brought them to this incredible place, had already left.

Alain was still studying the free-hand map that should take them to the hotel, - or, in fact, the instructions made by the lady from tourist office - so Josh lifted his eyes again, unable to resist the charm of mountains. The white domes under the deep azure sky appeared very soft, but every now and then grey-black rocks would pierce through the snow, their edges sharp and uneven. In summer, when all that snow was gone, the place must have made a wilder impression, Josh thought, breathing in the fresh air, so unlike that of Paris. He had to admit that he was rapt, and he no longer regretted he'd let himself be persuaded into coming here. Well, with Alain he would gladly go to the end of the world, but it was a different thing to simply spend some time in the open, and it was quite another thing to go for a... skiing holiday.

When Alain had suggested that trip in the end of January, Josh's reaction had been far from intelligent; in a weak voice, he'd repeated, 'Skiing holiday...?' and continued gaping at Alain. It'd happened exactly on Alain's birthday, so he couldn't really refuse - and later he would sometimes wonder whether Alain hadn't done it on purpose. But could he really suspect Alain of such slyness...? Well, he probably could, he decided with a sigh. When staying for a longer while with the likes of Joshua Or, who nearly instinctively acted in a way that provided him with the greatest advantage, one just had to pick something up from him... In any case, he'd agreed to the plan, although his knowledge of the... problem (it was the right word) was limited to being aware that something like skis _existed_. He hadn't wanted to make a bigger ignorant of himself that he'd already been - especially when Alain seemed to pretty much versed in the subject - so he hadn't quarrel. He had let Alain to have full discretion on the details of the trip - except for the date, for it had to fit into Josh's timetable on the university. He had half-term until February 20, and thus he could have a free week after his last exam of the autumn term.

And so he was here now, in the south-eastern France, and wondered how come such magnificent scenery was possible not so far from his homeland. He was positive that this place was much closer to Idealo than Paris; nevertheless, the lay of the land surprised him. Well, of course he remembered from the school the map of the country, yet it was one thing to learn from the books and the atlas, and it was quite another to see it with his own eyes. No, definitely, he didn't regret it. For last half a year, the only nature he'd been seeing were bigger and smaller parks in the capital, and now he could look at such marvels. He was sure that for the rest of their stay he would do nothing else but staring at those snowy hills and that play of white and blue, even if he'd come here to familiarize himself with skiing.

Alain finally tore himself away from the map and started to survey their surroundings, although he still didn't look like knowing where they should head.

"Hmm?" Josh started.

"The sign should be here," came the reply.

Josh looked around and pointed at the pole by the other side of the road; attached to it, there were wooden plates with carved names of hotels and distances to them. "Maybe that one?"

Alain gave him an abashed look, then adjusted the bag on his shoulder and approached the signpost. Josh followed, coming to the conclusion that snow crunching under his shoes made a pleasant impression. He stopped next to Alain, who attentively read the plates one by one. "What is the name of our hotel?" he asked, trying to be helpful.

"Les Sapins."

Josh looked through the names and finally pointed at the lowest; it was hard to read, mostly for the black tape crossing it out. They exchanged looks; it didn't bode well.

Josh felt his joy diminish. He should have got used to it already: that recently their plans would always turn bad... Suddenly, the beauty of the valley was no longer dazzling; the main feeling that welled inside him was fatigue after the long journey. Some hours on the train, two changes, and then a bus, too... And he hadn't got enough sleep last night; he'd been too enthusiastic about this trip... that could end here...?

"In any case, I think we should go there," Alain suggested. "It's not that far; we'll get there in half an hour."

Josh nodded silently. He shifted the bag onto the other shoulder, ready to follow Alain, who'd already started walking in the direction the sign showed. Then, however, a cheerful voice could be heard from behind his back, "Can I help you?"

Josh turned around, and Alain stopped. A man, not much older than them, was approaching them, apparently a local, with an honest look in his blue eyes. Dark, curly hair escaped from under his cap; apart from that, he was wearing pretty light, sports clothes. A red car was visible behind his back; the man had probably passed them and drawn to a halt. Maybe people here reacted that way to the visitors.

"I bet you're looking for your hotel?" he guessed. "I can give you a lift," he offered, pointing at their luggage that wasn't that light. "What is the place?"

Alain walked up to Josh and looked at the man. "Les Sapins," he said shortly.

The smile vanished from the man's face, and he frowned. Josh thought that they were going to learn that their hotel had burned in the fire last night... or had been swept away by an avalanche, or how it was called... Bad luck.

"Um, no use going there," the local replied as Josh had foreseen. "They are having a total deratisation; the health inspector commanded it yesterday... They had to close the hotel. They... didn't inform you?"

Josh looked at Alain, who knitted his brow. "No."

"So very irresponsibly..." the man became was clearly concerned. "They should've contacted you and offered you another accommodation. Are you sure they didn't call?"

"I am sure," Alain replied flatly.

"Sorry, I wasn't nice there," came the quick response. "You just have to feel bad when someone in your place screws up like that..."

"I bet it was that agent from the tourist office. She probably scrawled your phone number and couldn't read it later," Josh guessed; he'd seen the illegible scrabbles on the margins of the brochures. "I suppose they tried to contact with you via that office... What do we do now?"

"Have you travelled from far?"

"From Paris."

"Ah, so going home is not an option."

"But we surely can find a room in another hotel...?" asked Josh. "You seem to have quite many of them here," he said, waving at the signpost.

The man shook his head and frowned even more. "In the region, the winter holidays have just started. The hotels are full. Of course, Les Sapins _must've_ placed you somewhere... I think. Besides, rooms become vacant all the time, people cancel their stay and so on, but it's a hell of work to call or tour every hotel and ask... Speaking of that..." He mused, brushing his chin with one hand.

Josh shuffled his feet, unable to resist the impression they were left out in the cold. And on the _snow_. Standing on it was no longer fun; his feet started to freeze. He moved closer to Alain, in a hope to warm himself a bit.

The stranger finally raised his eyes and smiled again. "If it's all right with you... We run a guest-house, my wife and me, and we have a vacancy for one week. Guests from Lyon couldn't come; they informed us yesterday, I've just remembered. If you don't mind, please, stay in our place, even though it's quite a modest place, compared to Les Sapins..." he said in a apologetic way, but then supplied with certainty, "But not much. And we definitely have no rats. I always said they should take a cat, but Marianne is allergic and didn't even want to hear about it. Why, she didn't need to _sleep_ with that cat! And now she's done it... Ah, sorry for yapping," he added with embarrassment.

Josh looked at Alain, who was silently observing the local with his typical distrust. For Josh, the offer sounded heavenly, especially that he was getting colder with every minute. Alain turned to look at him, and Josh nodded to encourage him. Then Alain nodded too, and Josh gave him a shy smile before his gaze returned to the man. "If it's not a problem, we're happy to accept your offer, um..." he said.

"I'm David Lecour," the local introduced himself, stretching his hand that they shook in turn, saying their names, too. "You're a godsend," he said as they were already walking to the car. "We're pretty much at the start with that business, Chloe and me, so every guest is worth his worth in gold. We have only four rooms, so you can understand... But I'm not going to charge you more than half of the price you would've paid in Les Sapins.

"We can't accept that," Alain interrupted; Josh was surprised he had spoken. But, well, it was Alain who paid for that trip, so...

David put their bags into the boot and invited them inside. "We have much worse location than Les Sapins. Actually, we're situated far from the centre," he explained, fastening the belt and starting the engine. "There are only mountains behind us..."

"Is if far to the slope as well?" Alain asked rather shrewdly.

David turned back to look at them. "As for the slope, it's right there," he answered with a broad smile.

"No problem then," Alain replied.

"Actually, what made you come to Autrans?" David asked when they were moving along the apparently main road. They had already left the more dense housing behind; the town was really small. "It's your first time here, isn't it...?"

Josh kept silent, observing the houses that were all built in the similar style on a stone base and with sloping roofs. He had no idea why they'd come here; it was Alain who'd decided on it. For Josh, the Alps were the Alps, and the skis were the skis - it was probably all the same everywhere. Though... maybe he was unfair. He supposed that if he asked David, the man would be able to list dozens of differences among different places.

"In the tourist office, they advertised bigger ski-centres in the first place," Alain answered in that neutral tone of his. "Albertville, Chamonix, Grenoble... Only after I gave them to understand that I thought of more... cosy place, they told me about Autrans."

"Cosy?" David turned back again, although Josh wished he didn't do it as a driver. The man seemed perplexed.

"I've never been skiing before, so... I'd rather not have many witnesses of my first deplorable attempts at it," Josh uttered as invention struck him.

"Ah, I can't guarantee that," David commented, looking at the road again. "I doubt you can find a slope with no people in France in winter. But there's no reason to be embarrassed; there's always the first time. Personally, I think it's better to learn how to ski later than not at all. Don't worry," he added in a reassuring voice, "we have many slopes for the beginners, along with a nursery slope, of course."

"A nursery slope?" Josh asked in astonishment.

"The place where you'll learn to ski," David explained with a smile. "I'll procure the weekly passes for you both, it's the best way. Actually, we can go there today already and take care of all practical things, so that tomorrow you don't need to bother yourself with anything, just schuss on the hill."

"Schuss?" Josh asked, aware of his complete ignorance. 'Schuss'... It sounded rather menacing.

"Well, go downhill," David replied, laughing. "You really don't know much about skiing, do you?"

"But you seem to know quite a lot," Josh remarked, taking off his cap and putting it down on his lap. He didn't even try to hide his respect for the new acquaintance.

"I'm a ski instructor," the man said. "I work on the slope. Actually... if you don't have any arrangement already, I'd gladly take care of you during your stay."

"We have _no_ arrangements," Alain grunted, clearly sulking, which didn't happen often. "We were to take care of everything in the hotel..."

"Then, everything is fine," David laughed. "You'll have it all-inclusive."

"But... won't it be a problem?" Josh asked; he liked that man more and more with every minute.

"Not in the slightest. As I said, we care deeply about our guests. Here, in Autrans, we get along very well with other people, but when it's down to business, such small hotels like ours have to fight for clients twice as much as the bigger ones."

"But it is us who are grateful here," Josh pointed out.

"In that case, just treat it as a regional hospitality," David suggested. "I've no idea how it is in Paris, but here we normally take care of people in need."

Josh didn't know how to respond. In general, he considered himself to be a person well-inclined towards the world, but the world was not always well-inclined towards him. Living in a big city could only intensify that impression... that was why he'd greeted that unexpected kindness in this way. He searched for Alain's hand on the seat and grasped it momentarily, as if trying to boost his confidence in this sudden feeling of loss.

As they moved forward, the nature stepped into the foreground, yet they could still see, every now and then, clusters of those funny yet nice-looking houses. Some of them were surrounded by gardens, others by the fields, now covered by a thick layer of snow. To the left, the coniferous forest reached almost to the very road. Josh spotted a roe deer in the shadow, but for the most of time the forest seemed to be in hibernation. Josh managed to warm himself (in fact, he hadn't managed to get really cold during that moment when they'd been standing on the bus-stop and wondering about what to do) and thought that he started to like it here again. It was as if he'd found himself in a different world. Winters in Paris were terrible - he'd reached that conclusion already one year ago and hadn't changed his mind despite the change in his life - with that penetrating wind pushing in the coat, and cold rain whipping on cloudy days... In the south, the weather was usually finer, and apparently it held for winters as well.

"It's very pretty here," he said, never taking his eyes off the scenery outside the window.

"You won't find a more beautiful place," David replied, clearly pleased with the compliment to his home-town. "And I've seen quite a lot."

"Have you?" Josh asked, turning to him.

"I used to travel a lot, back in my younger days... I was an athlete. I attended some sport events... here and there."

"Wow," Josh said with admiration, at the same time wondering about how old David could be; he didn't seem more than thirty.

"But, like they say, home is best. Life in one place and a simple way to earn my bread fit me better. When it's ski association paying for everything, and constantly demanding good results, it's not that funny... Old times. Ah, but we're here."

The forest again retreated some hundred meters to the side, and the wider area opened before them. The mountains were very close. Josh glanced through the wind-shield and spotted the snowy slope with great deal of people who seemed to have a lot of fun, going downhill. He felt dizzy upon seeing their speed. "Alain, where have you brought me?" he muttered involuntarily.

David giggled. "You've really never been skiing?"

"Where I come from... We hardly ever had any snow..." Josh confessed in a weak voice.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," David tried to comfort him. "Look, there's a nursery slope," he showed at the nearly flat spot a bit farther. "You see how well kids are doing? You're going to catch it right away, too."

"I have nothing against kids," Josh muttered, "but such things usually come easier to them than to the adults."

"I'm telling you not to bother. What about you, Alain?"

"I've been skiing once or twice," came the nonchalant reply.

"What?!" Josh stared at him in bewilderment. Alain shrugged, and it was his only comment. "You've dragged me here while you know about skiing as much as I?!"

"Once or twice more," Alain reminded him.

Josh folded his arms and turned away, offended. "All that time, I was sure at least _you_ were experienced..."

David was laughing his head off, and Josh tried to calm down. Actually, it was his anxiety speaking; as long as he'd believed Alain had known what to do, he felt secure - but now...? On the other hand... Where could Alain have familiarized himself with skiing? And with whom? Again, he looked at the children whooshing on the... nursery slope. As they said, man was capable of anything, yet... He shook his head to boost his spirits. Joshua Or never gave up, right?

David turned from the main road right into the yard of a big house, and they entered its shade. Just like all others, it had a stone base, and on there was one... two... three... four floors under the tilted roof. The closest spruces weren't far. The house made a nice impression from outside already. David cut the engine and got out; Josh and Alain followed. Josh turned around and saw the slopes, so close he would reach them in just five minutes. "You call it bad location?" he asked in disbelief.

"You can hardly find any shops or restaurants here. Or discotheques. And it's eight kilometres to the centre. People prefer to stay there and come here to ski only," David explained.

"We're fine," Josh replied, somewhat prematurely; however, he didn't believe Alain felt like going to a disco.

They took their bags from the boot and followed their host, who was already showing them to the front door. On the other side of the building stood two cars, probably belonging to other guests. For some reason, Josh felt happy about it - that such a nice guy as David was doing well and could be pleased with that.

"If you need a transport to the centre, it's not a problem: Chloe or I can always give you a lift," David said, opening the door. "There's also a free shuttle bus every half an hour, if you prefer to be independent. I'll show you where it stops. Dear!" he called when they entered. "We have new guests!"

They stopped in the hall, silently exchanging the looks, while David set out to look for his wife. He didn't get far when a young woman appeared from the room in the end of the corridor, wiping her hands on the cloth. When she left the shade and approached to welcome them, Josh felt a sudden pang in his chest, followed by the absolute conviction she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The next moment he blinked, frantically trying to understand where such thought had come from. Alain was already shaking the woman's hand, so Josh rushed to greet her, trying not to stare, although averting his eyes proved pretty difficult.

"They've just come from Paris and had no idea where to go. I came across them on the bus-stop... They should be staying in Les Sapins," David explained. "But can you imagine they weren't informed that the hotel was closed? So I suggested that they stay in our place since we had a vacancy. Ah, but I haven't ask you how long is your holiday...?" he turned to them again with an apologetic smile.

"A week," Josh assured him.

Chloe gave him a sympathetic look, and Josh thought that for the first time he understood what it meant to have starry eyes. "Welcome to _The Spruces_. Maybe it's not the standard of Les Sapins... but at least the name is similar,"* she said humorously.

"If you don't have any rats, then everything is perfect," Josh added, and Chloe burst out laughing.

"It's true. And out cats shouldn't go up to the third floor, but you never really know, so don't start if you meet any of them in the corridor at night. But no use to stay here, come. I'll show you the room," she waved her hand. "Keep your eye on the dinner, will you?" she asked her husband, who nodded in reply.

They began to climb the wide, cracking stairs, and Josh was surprised that the house had a wooden interior. He hadn't known that timber was a building material in the mountains, but now he remembered that the houses they had passed on their way here all had wooden walls. Maybe even it was spruce wood...?

"Dining-room for guests, baths and drying room are located here," Chloe said when they stopped on the first floor, showing them the respective doors. "The breakfast is from half past seven until nine, and dinner is at half past five. Is it fine with you? Good. There are a few places offering quite good lunch by the slope, but if you want something more substantial, I recommend that you go to the centre. Now, let's move up."

The corridors on every floor was carpeted with colourful runners, which added to cosy atmosphere. On the panelled walls hung the small pictures. The fresh smell of timber was everywhere. Josh felt he liked this place more and more with every minute.

"On the second floor, there is a family suite, as well as two single rooms," the women said when they reached the next level. "Every room has a shower, but you can take a bath on the first floor, even every night if you please. We start to heat the water around noon, so there's no problem," she assured.

The stairs ended on the third floor, but Josh spotted a hatch in the ceiling that probably led to the attic. Chloe passed by two doors and opened the third one, with number six on it. "Here is your room," she announced and entered. "The two others are similar."

The room wasn't too big and had quite a low ceiling, but for some reason Josh took liking to it right from the start. The walls were panelled here, too, and there was a big wardrobe in the corner; they could unpack their bags into it. The window had a white net curtain, and the mountains could be seen behind it. There was also a wide bed.

A wide bed?

Josh blinked, and Chloe saw it, too. "Ah, I forgot to separate them. We expected a married couple to occupy this room, and I forgot to separate the beds, I'm going to..." she moved towards the bed.

"There's no need!" Alain and Josh called in unison, and then at least Josh put on a frightened look. "I mean... There's no need that a woman exerts herself," he said with a broad smile.

"We can do it ourselves," Alain added eagerly. "Those beds look pretty heavy to me," he stated in a voice of an expert, although Josh supposed Alain was as knowledgeable about the furniture as he was about airplanes.

"Don't underestimate the highlanders women!" Chloe laughed, grasping her right upper arm in a humorous gesture.

"You've already helped us so much," Josh noticed. "We really can do that."

Chloe gave up. "In that case, I'm going to bring you two quilts and sheets," she said, gathering the bedclothes. "Please, feel like at home."

"We surely will," Josh replied. "What about our... neighbours? There are six rooms, right? While David told us you rent four..."

"Ah, true. He probably mentioned that it's only our second year? For now, we rent only four, just to see how we can manage. In some time, we plan to put the other two into use as well, but I suppose it will mean too much work for just the two of us, we'll probably need to hire someone... In any case, at the moment, we have guests in room number one - that family suite - and number three on the floor below, and numbers four and six here."

Josh breathed a silent sigh of relief; that meant they had no next-door neighbours. "And it's probably rather quiet in the house?" he asked.

"It is," she assured him. "Or, at least, no-one has complained so far. People usually know how to behave in a guest-house; there's no nagging. The children may make some noise, just like children, but they are not so small and probably understand they shouldn't disturb others. Besides, in the evening everybody is too tired to do anything like that. A young couple stays in a room below you, and another in number four. You'll most likely meet them tomorrow on breakfast... Ah, right," she said suddenly as if she remembered something.

"Yes?"

"Today, I cooked dinner only for present guests..." she replied, clearly crestfallen. "I feel awful, saying you to go and eat in the restaurant... Unless," she raised her head and looked first at Josh, then at Alain, "you honour us and eat together with David and me...? We eat at six, but I can prepare something light for you in the meantime...?"

"We'll gladly accept that offer," Josh replied for them both, looking at the woman gratefully; he had absolutely no desire to go to the restaurant, especially after he'd spent most of the day travelling and finally - at four p.m.! - had arrived.

"Then, I'm delighted," Chloe commented and beamed, and Josh felt again as if something pierced his heart, and had to avert his eyes, even though he wished nothing more than keep looking at that joyful face. "If you wish to brush up, you'll find the towels and everything in the bathroom... Take your time to unpack and come down."

"I think we still have some sandwiches?" Josh looked at Alain, who nodded. "We'll be fine until six. If we could only have some tea..."

Chloe waved behind her. "In the corridor, just behind the wall, you'll find a kettle, a coffee tin, and bagged tea. Use as you like. There are also mugs and plates. Then, we'll see each other at six o'clock. I hope you'll like my cooking," she said, then giggled with embarrassment and left the room, leaving them alone, although it seemed to Josh that her laughter was still ringing in the air.

For a moment, he kept standing on the spot and looking around the room, then he approached the window and drew back the curtain. He spotted a small balcony outside... though he doubted they could use it in winter. Even if the light seemed warmer, softer - as it used to when the evening drew near - he couldn't be deceived. It was winter reigning over this place. He looked a bit to the side and noticed the northernmost slopes with ski-admirers revelling on them. Again, he tried to imagine that scenery some other time of year... Suddenly, he was filled with a desire to come here in summer, sit on that balcony and draw those hills, green, covered with woods and grass.

"I like it here," he said, turning to Alain, who sat down on the bed.

"It's all right," Alain agreed, but there was some reserve to his voice. "Only..."

Josh sat down next to him, pleased to notice it didn't creak, and rested his head against his shoulder. "Only...?"

"In that other hotel, no-one would've invited us to dinners or given us a lift to the centre. We would've been some of many guests, and no-one would've given a damn about us."

Josh said nothing, thinking of his words. It was a good thing, to be invited to dinners and given a lift... but he understood what Alain meant: that here - in this beautiful, nice and hospitable, but how _small_ guest-house - they would lack intimacy. Still, it was only one week, and he really took liking to their hosts. "We have no next-door neighbours," he reminded in a quiet voice. "We don't need to spend time with anyone else. We'll be fine," he said optimistically.

Then, however, he became aware of one thing: it was their first holiday trip... and he wondered how he should actually behave. How _they_ should behave. He realized that until now there'd been very few occasions to show themselves before another people. During their free time, they would only go to the park and walk, sometimes - rarely - hand in hand; they wouldn't reveal what was between them in any other way - it was their own business, happening behind the closed door in their own home. It was natural, and Josh never really mused over it. Now, however, that they were far from home, in a completely different place, he caught himself wondering how long it would last. A year? Two years? For ever? When would they finally start acting like a couple they were and, if asked who they were to each other, would stop... maybe not lying, but giving some evasive yet satisfying answer?

Josh had never been hiding his nature - he never considered it to be anything to be ashamed of - but whenever it might be disclosed... no, whenever it might be disclosed _in regard to Alain_ , he would sort of withdraw. Was it normal? Maybe, instead, he should muster his courage and reply outright, 'He's my boyfriend', 'We're together', 'We live together'. Maybe that was how they should act, regardless of possible reactions? The problem was that those reactions could be most diverse. There would probably be people accepting them right away, but it was as much probable that they would meet with unpleasant comments, slamming the door in their faces, or even physical violence. Not everyone was like Erwin or Mrs Bonnet, such was a harsh reality. In such case, it was more sensible to first test the waters before placing his trust - but he couldn't do it every time, with every person. As far as he knew, the social acceptance for homosexual relationships was growing all the time, yet, instead of waiting for the change to occur in his environment, maybe he should start and change it himself...? But... As long as he had Alain and everything was fine, he was also tempted to not bother with environment and let it stay as it was.

"You're asleep already?"

He smiled. "No, I'm just thinking..."

"The tea won't make itself from your thinking," Alain said in a voice that, in someone else, could be considered grumpy.

Josh snorted and sat upright, looking him into the eye, then kissed him briefly and got up. "Take a shower, if you feel like," he suggested, heading for the door. "I'll take after you."

Alain nodded, so Josh stepped into the corridor to have a closer look at the tea accessories... and the doors of two other rooms. Then, number five was vacant, while number four was occupied by a young couple... He wondered whether they were that type of 'young' who didn't bother about other guests at all... He glanced at the door to their own room and noticed the plate 'Do not disturb' hanging on the handle, meant for that married couple that had cancelled their stay. At first, he stared at it blankly, then blushed and wondered that, if he let it hang there, would their hosts take a hint? Maybe it was worth trying...? But they would probably decide it was simply left there... Human mind would always choose the most probable - the most standard - option, and Josh wasn't sure whether realizing it comforted or rather annoyed him. Well, in any case, it didn't make 'changing the situation' any easier.

He poured the hot water on the teabags, then took it to the room, along with the plates for the sandwiches. Alain was really quick with his shower; he was already walking out the bathroom, covered in two white towels and with white fluffy slippers on his feet. Apparently, a guest was really the most important here and was being given anything needed.

The tea was still hot, so Josh jumped in the shower. It was nicely warm in the house, so his hair would be dry in no time... Alain had already unpacked his bag into the wardrobe and set about Josh's. "I'm happy we've come here," Josh said, looking at him from the table, where he put slightly squashed sandwiches on the plates. "Thank you."

Alain glanced at him and smiled wryly. A bit. "Let's see if you say the same thing tomorrow."

"Let me remind you that you've skied 'once or twice' yourself," Josh noticed. "By the way, when it was?"

Alain finished putting the clothes on the shelves and sat on the chair by the table. "With Robert... With the Onyxs."

"It must be... quite a long time ago," Josh expressed his scepticism. He didn't want to ask whether Grace had accompanied them; such knowledge was unnecessary.

Alain, which happened rarely, tousled his hair unawares. "Don't worry. It's the same thing as with riding a bicycle; once you get it, you'll never forget."

"Ah, I see..." Josh replied, not really comforted. He couldn't remember the last time he was riding a bicycle; probably in elementary school...

"Or with..." Alain started and paused.

Josh gave him a questioning look, but Alain only stretched one hand in invitation. Josh rose from his chair and walked around the table to sit down on his lap and sink in his embrace. Alain kissed him, gently, slowly... and the sandwiches had to wait.

"Would you like us... to do it like anyone else? Anywhere else?" Josh whispered, unable to banish his earlier thoughts.

"Actually, it's all the same to me," Alain muttered in reply.

"Uhm..."Josh asked himself whether he should be concerned or the contrary. "In that case... would it bother you if anyone saw us now?"

"Hmm... I don't think so."

"Then, imagine someone standing behind the window, on that balcony, and seeing us. How would he react? Knocking on the glass and shouting some unpleasant things."

"I'd get even with him later."

Josh smiled involuntarily. "Be serious."

"I am."

Josh sighed. Yes, Alain was probably completely serious, that was the problem... On the other hand, he displayed that light-heartedness of him that sometimes worried Josh. To tell the truth, since they'd started to live together, Alain had _completely_ divested himself of his delinquent ways, yet he still could think in a specific manner... But, hey, it was not about it but about people's reactions. Well, as far as he was concerned, Alain could really not bother about how others saw him. Maybe he really wouldn't mind if he and Josh... sometimes on the street or in the park... But, he remembered, was Alain the type to flash around his relationships, to begin with? Josh had no doubt he wasn't. He couldn't imagine Alain kissing _anyone_ in a public place... Those were two different things. Alain could be not ashamed - he surely wasn't - of his intimacy with Josh, but displaying his feelings openly... before the audience...? No, Josh couldn't see it at all. Then, it really wasn't about the details of their relationship but about the relationship itself.

Nevertheless, he couldn't banish the vision about the likes of them being allowed to touch in public and raising no commentary doing so. Maybe that idea of active influencing on the attitude in his environment wasn't so bad?

Alain, as if reading his thoughts, whispered into his ear. "Don't try to change the world by yourself. Don't try to change everything when it's all right."

"Is it?"

"Is it not?"

Josh rested his forehead against Alain's cheek and wondered how it was possible that Alain could always surprise him, saying such obvious and wise things; rarely as it happened, yet that made them even more wonderful.

"I think it is," he replied and smiled. "It is."

* * *

The dinner was delicious. Josh couldn't refrain from praising Chloe's skills, which he did several times, every one of them made Chloe beam. Maybe he just wanted to see her smile, that enraptured him... When the four of them were sitting by the table - Josh facing Chloe - he racked his brain about why she made such an impression on him. Earlier, in the hall, she'd seemed to him the most beautiful woman in the world; however, now he understood already it was not about her appearance - which was considerable, too. Together with David, they were really nice to look at, and they fit together, both dark-haired and blue-eyed. Her hair was nearly black and not as curly as her husband, and her eyes, contrary to sapphire irises of David, had a turquoise hue.

Yes, her beauty was impressive - it was the first time Josh could say so about a female - but it paled by comparison with her way of being. After just one hour, Josh knew that, if she wished it, he would be her friend for the rest of life - it was a feeling he'd never had when with a woman. She was full of energy, of unbound sparkliness that seemed contagious. She was intelligent and knew a lot, which showed through her laughter and jokes. She radiated love that touched everyone around. He couldn't imagine a person that wouldn't desire to stay beside her.

Josh didn't believe the happy mood was created by the wine served with the dinner. It was all about the company. The conversation they had, could as well last until morning. They talked about everything. About his studies and her education. About psychology and pedagogy. About adults and children. About mountains and Paris. About beautiful houses in Autrans and tenements in the big city. About entertainment and sport. About books and music. About views on life, plans, and dreams. They laughed, bantered, and exchanged rejoinders. They joked and juggled with lofty phrases. They alternated serious contents with trivial things, and neither of them wanted to seem less smart than the other. Josh couldn't remember - _he couldn't!_ \- the last time the talk with another person had pleased him so much. He was under the impression he'd met his soul-mate - here, in a small mountain town he'd founded himself in almost by accident.

It was when the clock in the next room struck eleven, he realized the evening was coming to an end. It filled him with sorrow; then, however, Chloe suggested Josh and Alain eat with them every night. Josh was so delighted he really considered kissing her hands to show his respect. Maybe he _had_ drunk too much, after all.

When they returned to their room, he threw himself on the bed. He was dead tired, but it was that nice kind of exhaustion. He knew he had yet to get undressed, but he let himself one moment of bliss and tried to process those last hours in his head.

"She is wonderful," he said in a dreamy voice.

He was replied by silence, but, then, he didn't really expected any reply.

* * *

 _Spruces staring at the end of the horizon - "Bieszczady" (scout song)  
_

* Les Sapins means The Firs


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**  
 _ **(huuda sun äänihuulet riikki ja poikki)**_

* * *

Skiing appeared to be much more fun Josh could have ever expected.

Surely, he spent the whole first day on practice how to stay on his legs longer than just a few seconds, and he familiarized himself with the snow to much bigger extent he'd ever wished to, but he felt great nonetheless. The weather was fine and not too cold - probably thanks to the full sun - but it was only in the hot bath that he could warm himself after a few hours on the slope. Still, he didn't fear to catch a cold; he was in such a good spirit he didn't imagine anything could beat him.

Actually, he'd been in a great mood right from the first morning. He woke up with a smile, or, rather, was waked - very gently and delicately yet firmly. He'd been sleeping really well, he thought, lifting his eye-lids and looking in Alain's green eyes beneath the wooden ceiling. Ah, right, he remembered; they were in the mountains. They'd arrived yesterday, found the place to stay... In the evening, they'd been so tired they'd simply got to bed and slept the whole night. He glanced behind the window and saw the blue sky. Yes, it was definitely morning already... but they didn't have to hurry. Surely, the mountain was in the same spot that yesterday and would wait for them.

He stretched himself with a fine feeling it would be a wonderful day. To think that only yesterday the thought he'd come here to _ski_ , had been filling him with anxiety... Today he was under the impression he could conquer the world. He was really glad to be here.

"What's the time?" he asked.

"Almost eight," Alain replied.

Josh levered himself up on his elbow and reach for him; one kiss just wasn't enough. "Good morning," he whispered, smiling again.

Alain smiled back, shyly, and looked away. "We should get up and have a breakfast," he said, rising from the bed.

Josh nodded and ran one hand through his hair. First, he had to tidy himself up a bit... Somewhat reluctantly, he left the warm bed and made his way for the bathroom, but as he was brushing his teeth, his high spirit was back. Really, a good day awaited him.

Fifteen minutes later they descended to the dining-room on the first floor. It was full; they could tell that from the corridor already. Josh looked at Alain, then shrugged and pushed the carved door. Their entry didn't arouse any interest - the hinges in this building were very well-oiled, although almost everything else creaked - and so they could have a look at the people present. The table by the window was occupied by a middle-aged couple with two daughters - all light-haired and blue-eyed, suntanned and in excellent mood. Josh thought that was how real skiers looked like. The table in the corner was occupied by two girls and two guys - all four seemed only slightly older than Josh; maybe they, too, were students - having a lively discussion and occasionally exchanging the comments with the pair by the window. Apparently, the breakfast tasted great, judging from the amount of used plates. Or could it be that sport whetted the appetite...?

That moment one of the girls - dark-haired and bespectacled - tore her eyes off her friend and looked at them, and then frowned. "You're not Mr and Mrs Carnais," she said with some reproach, and Josh, somewhat stupefied, could only admit she was right.

"Jacques and Marielle had to cancel their trip, haven't I told you?" a cheerful voice was to be heard, making Josh feel funny on his stomach. "Yet we got new guests right away. By accident, but a very nice one." Chloe approached a vacant table and put down a tray with a teapot and a breadbasket. "Good morning, Joshua, Alain. I hope you slept well?"

"I slept like a log until morning," Josh replied, semi-consciously deciding that the woman looked lovely in a white blouse.

"I'm glad to hear it. Please, sit down," she said warmly. "David says he'll be at your disposal after you've eaten. Bon appétit!"

They took the places she showed them, aware of the curious looks; now that they'd attracted the attention, they were stared at by all people gathered in the dining-room. Josh could only hope that other guests would get used to their presence and continue their conversation, but, of course, it didn't happen. Maybe people liked to get to know each other in this kind of place? Suffice it to say that they spent the next half an hour exchanging the basic facts about each other: where they came from, what they did, how long they were going to stay, how often they went to ski, what equipment they used, and so on... Well, _Josh_ exchanged, for Alain either kept silent or, at best, answered in monosyllables.

After some time, he managed to exclude himself from the conversation when the young ones - apparently, experts on the subject - split up in two groups and started to ferociously arguing about different brands of skis and poles, their names being completely unfamiliar to Josh. He listened to the fierce arguments throwing by the two sides, simultaneously relishing the delicious breakfast. Rolls and butter, smoked meat and cheese, eggs and lots of vegetables, and very tasty drinks: tea, coffee, milk, and juice. All fresh, pleasing both the eye and the mouth. The room itself was very nice place - bright and spacious, with wooden tables and chairs, with white tablecloths and napkins, and tableware with a blue pattern. There were even flowers in pots. Josh couldn't imagine they could get better reception in another hotel...

Chloe frequently came in from the kitchen to make sure the guests had everything they needed and bringing more food or drinks. Every time she entered, Josh couldn't resist the impression the sun was peeking into the room. She tended to the guests in a wonderful manner, smiling and laughing cheerfully. Someone else could think it was just a pose of a person attending to the clients, but Josh was absolutely sure the woman was simply happy and hence the warmth she radiated.

The young people by the next table still hadn't settled the dispute whether the Rossignols were better than the Atomics when Mr Courtois joined the conversation. So far, the family had kept to themselves, although the girls - having incredible names, Anna-Sophie and Marie-Christine, that Josh would mix up throughout his whole stay - every now and then turned to look at him. He wondered whether he should consider it flattering or the contrary when each time it led to exchanging glances and smothering their chuckle in their fair plaits.

"Aren't you tired quarrelling about the same thing over and over again?" Mr Courtois asked with a cup in his hand.

"We're not quarrelling," a slight blonde objected with a smile, and her male friends supported her.

The dark-haired four-eyes, who had introduced herself as Marie, gave the man close look. "We gain new experience every day," she said emphatically. "Thus, every day we get closer to the ultimate truth," she added with a spark in her eye.

"That's truly praiseworthy... But why am I hearing the very same arguments that I did last year?" the man asked, laughing.

"In that case, what brand _you_ find the best?" the girl didn't give up, cupping the mug with slender fingers.

"Fischers, of course," Mr Courtois replied, undeterred by that counter-attack, and all his three women nodded in agreement.

The group fell silent, albeit not for long because Chloe entered the room again, and four young faces - plus Josh's - turned to her more or less longingly.

"Chloe, what skis are best?" the young people started to outshout one another. "We can't reach an accord here."

"Fischers, of course," Chloe answered without a slightest doubt and set about gathering the empty plates, their clatter quite loud in the silence that fell.

"Chloe... Do you ski?" Josh asked after a while.

"I used to... long ago. It's been years since I put the skis on for the last time," she replied, looking through the window thoughtfully, and then smiled at him. "Now I have different things to do."

Josh found it a bit strange since she had just five minutes to the slope... but then he decided that running a guest-house must have been a whole-day work. It seemed that Chloe took care of everything... In that case, how could she have time to ski? David helped her, of course, but he had his own job, so it fell on her to take care of most tasks... Josh felt guilty about that and began to intensely think how to spare her additional trouble. To tell the truth, she seemed to manage perfectly well, merry like a lark right from morning... All the more reason to prevent her from being tired and overworked, which he didn't want to even imagine.

When breakfast came to an end and the guests left the dining-room - the young ones quite chaotically and energetically, the family in a more ordered manner (Josh witnessed how Mr Courtois got up and offered his wife his arm, saying, "Shall we go, Christa, dear?", and she accepted it, replying, "We should, Gauthier.") - Josh wiped his mouth on a napkin and observed Chloe cleaning the tables. He struggled against the desire to help her, but some voice in his head told him she wouldn't take his offer.

"Chloe... How is it with the rooms?" he asked when inspiration struck him. "You clean them after one guests leave and before the next arrives, don't you?"

"The rooms are cleaned every day, of course," Chloe replied with no hesitation. "When the guests leave, I come with a vacuum-cleaner and a duster."

"Ah, well, you see... You don't need to clean _our_ room," he said rather content. "We don't have that much luggage to make a mess... We can take care of the room ourselves," he rushed to add. She turned to look at them with astonishment. "We'll manage well, don't need to bother yourself," he assured her. "I'd feel sort of... embarrassed with a woman organising my stuff," he kept telling fibs; in her case, he wouldn't really mind. "Alain too."

Chloe straightened up over the table of the Courtois family. "If that's the case, then, of course, I don't want to embarrass you," she replied.

"We'll leave the shoes in the corridor, so that no dirt would be deposited," Josh activated his imaginary. "Thus, there would be no need to vacuum. We can't possibly make a big mess in one week...?"

"Don't worry about that," she answered. "But I have to admit I'm taking your offer gladly. Thank you," she said, resuming her work, and Josh congratulated himself. "If you need clean towels, you'll find them in the cupboard in the corridor, next to that one with the plates," she added, putting the dirty dishes on the tray.

Josh nodded; he'd seen that cupboard yesterday when preparing the tea. He was happy he could relieve Chloe of her duties, even if only in such a slight way. Yet, he wouldn't stop thinking what else he could do for her...

"I'll tell David you've finished," the woman said when a single struck of the clock came from the house; it was half past nine. "Once you're ready, come down. David will take care of everything. Yesterday, he procured the entry passes for both of you, so there's only the matter of the equipment. And skiing," she added and laughed.

"Thank you. It won't take long, right?" he gave Alain a questioning look; Alain nodded. "We'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

Chloe smiled with that smile of her that reached her eyes and went to the kitchen, and they returned to their room, being passed by Marie and Julian, who were already going to the slope. The door shut behind them quietly... and the next moment Josh was surprised when Alain's arms closed around him.

"Nice thinking with that cleaning," Alain whispered into his ear. "We won't have to separate the beds every morning..."

Nice thinking? Ah, that... Right, he'd been guided solely by desire to help Chloe, and now it appeared he'd killed two birds with one stone.

"Would you really bother doing it?" he asked, realizing he hadn't spared it a single thought himself; apparently, he'd been so accustomed to sleeping in a wide bed that seeing it like that seemed the most natural thing.

"It occurred to me once or twice," Alain replied, still pressed against his back.

"You know, there's no guarantee no-one will look in," Josh made a lucid remark, shamelessly enjoying Alain's touch at the same time.

"Then, you suppose we should separate them?"

"Nah... At the very most, they would be surprised but shouldn't throw us out, don't you think?"

He got no reply since Alain busied himself with his left ear. Josh gave into the caress, looking through the window; then, however, his sight caught the small figures moving downhill in the distance.

"Let's go and try that skiing of yours," he said with a smile, turning back. "Should we dress somehow? Or are we okay like this?"

Alain let go of him, an intent expression appearing on his face. "We'll get everything there... I think," he declared somewhat hesitantly.

"That's even better," Josh laughed. "Off we go."

They spent the next hour in a ski rental, searching the appropriate skis, poles, goggles, suits, and shoes, supported by David, who really knew his stuff. Josh could show his 'knowledge'... or, at least, derive some benefit from that chatter by the breakfast; when David, mostly out of habit, asked them whether they had any specific brand in mind, Josh answered without doubt, "Fischer, of course,", knowing perfectly well he wouldn't tell it from another. However, David gave him an approving look and nodded, while Alain only rolled his eyes. After a while, having put on - for the first time in his life - a full ski gear, Josh wondered how it was possible to move in it, to say nothing of skiing. Yet, after he managed to reach the lift and later a nursery slope as well, he was of the opinion that the suit didn't keep him as stiff as he wished...

And then the fun began.

Josh was certain he would manage much worse - after all, it was his very first contact with the skis, so he'd expected the complete fiasco - yet he discovered it wasn't that bad. Sure, he kept falling down and losing his balance, he would find himself on the snow countless times, but that was all. David taught him to move forward and coming to a stop, and, above all, to fall safely. When the noon passed, Josh was able to ski over ten meters and control what he did. David lavished him with praise, especially his kinaesthetic skills, and Josh remembered that once he'd used to move a lot and had had complete trust for his body.

Alain was skiing a bit farther, on the slope only slightly more steep than Josh's. Well, since he'd skied 'once or twice' before, it was prudent of him not to fling at more demanding tracks... Still, as Josh noticed with envy, he kept himself up much more firmly than Josh, so, apparently 'once or twice' made a considerable difference. How had Alain said? 'You don't forget it'. Ha, that meant Josh shouldn't lose hope; once he grasped the basics, he would whoosh just like the rest.

The Courtois family stopped by a few times, praising Josh's progress. The girls kept staring at him intensely - as he could assess through the goggles - before quickly going downhill, their fair plaits fluttering behind their back. Josh held back a sigh; maybe he shouldn't build too high hopes. He looked at the slope where Alain managed pretty well, and then the next and the next, each of them more inclined... He probably would have to spend the whole winter here to dream of such feats...

Mastering the technique to the extent he was able to ski downhill on the easier slopes with other people didn't even take him a week. And it was truly a magnificent week...

Chloe had been right about one being completely worn down after coming back from the slope. Worse; as soon as the day following his debut, Josh found it absolutely impossible to get up from the bed - yet, by some miracle (called Alain, probably), he did, dressed himself and, after breakfast he fell upon like a hungry wolf, he went to the slope again, and spent the rest of day there. Actually, those days merged with one another, filled with the same activities, yet each of them was most intense. Delicious breakfast, great fun with skis, and excellent dinner. After that Josh would fling himself on the bed and sleep until morning.

He couldn't quite remember when he'd been so full of energy. Apparently, a break from studying could do wonders... Sure, he'd _been_ feeling much better this year than the previous one, and for a specific reason; nevertheless, he was certain that in Paris he had never, not even once, felt so strong, so unbounded joy of living, of being able to move, of seeing blue sky over his head, and feeling the warmth of the sun. Sometimes skiing downhill, he would give vent to that joy, shouting out loud - without words, only for the wind. He still couldn't even dream of catching the Courtois girls, who wanted to ski with him as often as possible, but it didn't spoil his spirit in the slightest. Marie and Julian, and the other pair too, only nodded at his enthusiasm, probably reminiscing about their own first delight on the ski slope. Julian tried to teach him some more aggressive turns but gave up after Josh proved him not to be ready. He wiped out twice and landed in a drift; afterwards, he got out of it with a loud laugh, brushing the snow off his hair, and returned on his safe slope. He was getting along greatly with Marie and Julian, as with the other guests - their coexistence on the small space of three floors shaped up very well - and he couldn't find a single thing that would disturb that euphoria he felt every day.

And when evening came, bringing about Chloe - that wonderful Chloe, who seemed the very life-force incarnated - Josh felt like laughing and crying, and shouting, and whispering. When with her - being able to look at her, to listen to her, and talk to her - he felt like the happiest man in the world. There was something about her that invigorated yet calmed. For some reason he didn't even try to pursue, he felt... complete by her side; as if it was his place here. Every time the clock announced the late hour, he was disconsolate - and happy, for he knew he would see her again as soon as tomorrow. He never looked further than tomorrow.

He would do anything for her, if she asked. He didn't find it at all strange.

* * *

Inevitably came their last evening in Autrans.

Josh was sad at the thought that tomorrow, instead of going to the slope he'd got used to, he would have to travel all the way to cold Paris, that would most likely seem uglier in his eyes. The week had passed very quickly, although it had been so intense it could as well be a whole year in someone else's life. Josh didn't want to leave here, but there was no other option. The bags by the wall were waiting to be packed... but he couldn't get down to it. Well, they hadn't that much stuff; they might as well do it tomorrow morning since their train left quite late noon... Besides, Alain hadn't packed his bag either...

Alain.

Josh looked around. A moment ago, Alain had been here, about to head for the dinner... but now he was no longer in the room. Josh had stepped into the bathroom and when he'd come back, Alain hadn't been there. Ah, maybe he'd gone down first... In that case, Josh had nothing to do here. He turned off the lights and swiftly ran down the stairs to the ground floor.

But Alain wasn't on the ground floor either. Chloe was placing the last plates on the table; she smiled, upon seeing him. Josh asked her about Alain, but she only shook her head; she hadn't seen him. "Unless he hasn't left with David," she said after a while, frowning thoughtfully.

"Then, David won't eat with us tonight either?" Josh asked, surprised, moving back the chair.

The previous day, David hadn't accompanied him, excusing himself with some business. He must have been very busy if he couldn't spend the evening with his wife... Now that Josh thought about it, he came to the conclusion he'd hardly ever seen him in last three days. At first, the man had seem so helpful and enthusiastic about everything, especially teaching Josh how to ski, and then he'd... disappeared. Well, it could be he'd decided Josh no longer needed his instructions... But he _had_ sent his friend, Vincent, as a replacement, which meant he hadn't believed Josh's training to be over. It was only now Josh realized he didn't like it. It looked as if David... was avoiding him?

And now even Alain was gone, which filled Josh with even greater uncertainty.

They waited a quarter, but when there was still no trace of the two men, they started eating just in the two. Josh tried to focus on conversation, just like he had for the last week, but he was unable to get rid of his concern about Alain. Chloe assured him that it was safe here, with no wild animals, and the weather was stable, but it still couldn't alleviate that unpleasant feeling in his chest, a sensation he hadn't had for a longer while. It was as if his body was reacting to something his mind had yet to understand... Funny.

"We have problems with mobile network here," Chloe said with an apologetic smile. Josh knew about it; Alain's cell phone stayed in their room, turned off, for it hadn't got reception. "In winters, you can use only stationary phones, otherwise I would've called David right away and asked."

Josh shook his head; all he needed was Chloe worrying about Alain. "He's a grown-up; he knows what he's doing," he said shortly. At least, that was what he wanted to believe. "Don't bother yourself with him. As you said, it's safe here," he added, putting some salad on his plate.

Alain should have told him he'd like to go out. Would it be any problem? However, Josh caught himself thinking they hadn't been talking much recently. And hadn't been _doing_ much, either... Some quick caresses before breakfast - and that was all, for in the night Josh was too tired for sex. Well, he thought in defence, if Alain had insisted on bringing him for a ski holiday, he should have taken into account that Josh would have no strength after several hours on the slope, right? In any case, he should have, at least, informed Josh he'd come back late, instead of worrying him - when Josh had enough reasons to worry about already. Tomorrow they would depart, leave this fantastic place; this was their last evening in Autrans... at least during this winter. Why had Alain had to spoil it? Why didn't he let Josh spend it like Josh wished to?

He blinked, trying to catch the last thought. Spoil it? Alain and spoil? How could he think something like that? He felt dizzy from those sudden chaotic impressions and tried to pull himself together.

Now, he should forget Alain for now and instead focus on Chloe, facing him with rosy cheeks and bright, happy eyes. For a moment, he succeeded, and they would spend another quarter talking about how beautiful was Autrans in summer.

What if... A sudden thought occurred to Josh, making him nearly choke on his tea... What if Alain and David...? He straightened up in the chair when that vision crossed his mind. Could it be the reason why Alain had ceased talking to Josh completely and given up on their night romps...? Regardless of Josh fatigue in bed, he could have made some attempt, could have given Josh understand he would gladly... instead of being indifferent, turning his back on Josh and falling asleep just like that.

Alain and David. No, it couldn't be possible. It simply couldn't be possible. Alain would never... But if he...? Was that why Alain had kept silent and let Josh converse with Chloe as much as it pleased him? Josh had to admit he did lose sight of anything else when in Chloe's presence; that was the extent of the pleasure he derived from talking with the woman... Maybe at the same time, next to him, Alain had been... flirting with David? No, 'flirting' was a very bad choice for words in Alain's case... but something like that. While David? He would sit by the table as silent, speaking to no-one. In his own house! Then, yesterday he'd vanished altogether, and today with Alain...!

Josh decided his vivid imaginary would undoubtedly kill him one day.

"Joshua...?"

He shook his head and fixed his eyes on the beautiful face, observing him over the table with concern. He trusted Alain, he'd always trusted him... but now, now...

"You said how long you've been married...?" he changed the subject, although he could no longer remember their discussion from a moment ago.

"Five years," she replied, slightly surprised. "But we've been knowing each other from our childhood..."

"Then... you must've been a couple a longer while?"

Chloe nodded, putting down her glass. "Though, that time you wouldn't call it that," she said, smiling kindly. "You see, there's a six year age difference between David and me, so we used to see each other more like siblings or cousins, for most of the time. It really began only when he participated in the world cup events and travelled throughout the world and I studied in Lyon and hardly ever came home... It was when we started to miss each other... in a different way than before... and then we got serious."

"That's when you got engaged?"

She nodded again. "Nine years ago. Ah, it wasn't that obvious, not right away anyway," she added quickly. "We just started to go out whenever we happened to be in Autrans at the same time, and it was different than when we'd been kids. We talked a lot... It was really a nice time," she smiled. "But you know, I decided to believe him only after he showed his enthusiasm about my dream of this guest-house. He was the first person who believed we could succeed, all others just said that it was doomed to failure, that there was enough hotels in Autrans, that we wouldn't have clients..." Her eyes flashed. "But David didn't say so, he only supported me all the time. We designed and built this house together... Well, I didn't build it literally, but I came here everyday. You might say that _The Spruces_ is the fruit of our love..." she claimed in a dreamy voice and then raised her eyes on him.

"I think it was very nicely said... You're very in love with him," Josh stated the truth and couldn't admire it. Listening to her, he forgot about his troubles, for a moment. "And you... trust him."

"But of course," she replied lightly. "Because we respect each other. Ah, the athletes, especially those on the national team level who attend the international competitions, have their own affairs. You can't really help it." She shrugged. "But I know that now there's no reason to suspect him of anything like that. As I said, I'm certain of his respect more than anything else."

"What is that you base your conviction on?" Josh asked. "I'm sorry I question you so much, but... I'm curious," he said truthfully. "Interpersonal relationships, bonds... It's so fascinating. And, at the same time, the story is different with every person. How can you be sure that..." Ugh, how should he ask? 'That your husband doesn't go for men?' It was stupid and misplaced even for him.

She observed him calmly over the table, the gentle smile still on her lips. In the dim light of the lamp, her eyes seemed dark. "I would have to go deep into our intimate life, but it belongs only to me and David, I'm sorry," she replied in the same friendly manner.

Josh blinked at such a delicate - but how flat! - refusal that he hadn't expected.

"But I think that one day you'll find the answer yourself," she added. Suddenly, she seemed to him much older... much more experienced. Wiser. "As you said, it's a different story for every person. You have to see how it would be in your case. You won't learn it from someone else."

"But..." he started and paused. He knew insisting wouldn't do; she would only see him as a stubborn kid.

Chloe gave him a sympathetic look. "But I'll tell you one thing... because I trust you, Joshua. Even now, if David had a... a fling... it wouldn't matter. I'd welcome him back like always. I don't know if it can't be reasoned in any other way than love. I love him more than anything in this world. I want him to know that in the first place." She pressed one hand against her cheek. "Ugh, I suppose you consider me to be a terrible person...?" she asked, flushed and clearly embarrassed. Now she didn't seem any older than he.

Josh slowly shook his head. "No, at most I consider you a saint..." he replied with some hesitation.

Her last statement didn't rule out David's... unusual behaviours in regard to Alain; even if she loved David more than anything, it seemed not necessarily true for David since she did assume his being unfaithful to her. Or maybe she only judged from his past as an athlete, Josh didn't know. In the end, he had no idea how he should take her words. It really was something that a saint could say: such love without reservation, without conditions - or so it seemed to him. On the other hand... he mused. He had forgiven Alain everything. _Everything_. The past - especially that bad, unpleasant - was of no importance, for now Alain was by his side; that was what really mattered.

Still, would he forgive Alain if Alain returned with David? No... would Alain be able to _return_ , in the first place? In relationship with Josh, did he feel secure enough to believe in Josh's love and know he could return? But, well, the most crucial thing was whether he would _like to_... Josh felt very cold. No, no, all that was truly impossible.

That one moment, he was certain he would forgive Alain even... how had Chloe called that... a fling with David, if only Alain returned. Apparently, he'd had the makings of a saint himself, ha ha...

The rest of the dinner passed in silence. Josh couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for further conversation, trying to solve his entangled feelings and life priorities, and Chloe didn't insist, apparently respecting his confusion. She might know her words had made him think.

They were sitting in the living room when the clock struck eight. The sound was still ringing in the air when they heard a noise of the front door being opened. Josh dashed into the hall first, but Chloe was right behind his back. The view before their eyes made them both stop dead, but Josh noticed that an initial feeling welling up in him was relief.

Alain was supporting David, hanging on him with the whole weight, with one arm around his neck. Josh's heart ceased beating... but then he had a closer look and decided that this time his gloomy visions might be far from reality. It was clear that David could barely stand and his face had awful colours. He didn't seem like someone coming back from a tryst... Unless it was a tryst that filled him with disgust, Josh thought hysterically and had no idea what to make of it.

"David started feeling unwell," Alain confirmed his earlier suspicions, shutting the door.

Chloe went by Josh to approach the two men but hesitated on her way, and that moment Josh smelled the alcohol. "Where?" she asked in a weak voice.

"In that pub... _The Hill_ or something," Alain replied.

Chloe suppressed a sigh, then took her husband by the other arm and showed Alain to a room deeper inside the house. Josh followed them but stopped in the doorway. Moaning David was put down on the bed, and Chloe removed his shoes. "Thank you..." she said to Alain. "He'll be fine. Vodka always does it to him. He hardly ever drink it, it's been two years since the previous time..." She shook her head. "I apologize for that scene. There's no need to worry. He's going to feel better in an hour or so."

"Is there anything we can do?" Josh offered.

She gave him a faint smile. "He'll be all right, but thanks. However, now I have to as you to leave... We'll see each other tomorrow," she said flatly and put one hand on a handle. "Good night."

Josh quickly stepped back; Alain had been already standing in the corridor. When Chloe shut the door, they had nothing to do here. The silently climbed the stairs and silently moved into the room. Josh's anxiety, that had disappeared for a moment upon Alain's sight, was back now, and doubled - especially that Alain was sitting there on the edge of the bed, so very indifferent, staring at the unpacked bags by the wall.

"Where the hell have you been?" Josh asked in a voice sharper he'd intended to.

Alain looked at him, his green eyes contrasting strangely with his flushed cheeks.

"You've been drinking?" Josh inquired, although he could hear himself how awful he sounded.

Alain shrugged and stared outside the window.

"And you drove, on top of that?!" Josh realized it only now. "You know how it could have ended?" he nearly shouted, even though he was aware that his fear is somewhat belated.

"Big deal... Eight kilometres on a straight road," Alain replied dispassionately.

"Yes, with a spruce forest on the both side," Josh reminded him, although it wasn't really true, for the forest grew only on one.

"I couldn't carry him on my back those eight kilometres, could I?" Alain noticed pretty sensibly.

"You should've taken a taxi," Josh muttered, folding both arms on his chest.

Alain shrugged again, but then glanced at him briefly before looking outside the window again. "I haven't drink that much," he said with some resentment, and Josh remembered that Alain had been hardly drinking alcohol in last half a year. "For most of the time, I listened to David's complaining..."

"And what could David possibly complaint to you about?" Josh asked somewhat mockingly. "Bad inclination of a slope, or wrong spacing of the poles on a trail?" He knew he was being terribly unfair to David... who was even suffering from sickness as they spoke.

"No," Alain replied calmly. "about that you've fallen for his wife."

Josh felt cold, as if the whole blood vanished from his body and his heart stopped beating. For a moment, he just stood and blinked, wondering whether he'd heard it right, for it seemed difficult to believe that anyone could conceive such thought and even put it into words.

'That you've fallen for his wife,' Alain had said. The world started moving again, although it appeared as if a terrible absurd weighed on it now.

"But, of course, you've put him straight right away?" Josh asked shakily, breaking the silence so deep they could hear the water dripping in the bathroom. How come he even question it?

Alain said nothing, staring in the window.

"Alain...?" Josh inquired somewhat hysterically.

Alain didn't move... and didn't even want to meet his eyes. Josh felt he began to tremble - mostly because suddenly he was unable to hold all those emotions filling him since each of them seemed to pull him in another direction... tear him apart.

Disbelief.

Relief.

Objection.

And a horrible sense of guilt.

For now he could see clearly, so very clearly, how his behaviour during last week must have looked like. How it must have looked like in others' eyes, and surely in David's. And Alain's.

He plumped down on a bed and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said without thinking. He didn't need to think. "I'm sorry..."

Alain kept silent... but, at least, was still there. Here. With him. Josh wanted to tell him so much, explain it... but couldn't find words. What should he say? He didn't know himself, for everything was swirling inside him, thousands of thoughts, trains, expressions... He didn't even know how to start, but he was sure of one think: he had to apologize, to everyone - David, Chloe, and especially Alain... Some malicious voice in his head reminded him that he had all right in the world to be friends with anyone he pleased - with Chloe, too - and it shouldn't fill him with remorse, but he ordered it to shut up. It was Alain at stake, after all... _Alain...!_ And Alain had always been... always been the most important person to him. No, _the only_ important. When it was about Alain, everything else became insignificant. Maybe it wasn't the best way to live one's life, but it was _his_ way and he was determined to stick to it. And now, to his Alain, he had...

But how could Alain think that Josh... and Chloe...? He raised his eyes and frowned, glancing at Alain, who was still staring elsewhere. Did Alain know him so little? Trust him so little? Why did he...

Stop.

He hung his head again and then even put his both hands around it, as if trying to aid his thought process.

Stop, no blaming, no accusations. Just a moment ago, Josh himself had been completely sure that Alain could be interested in David, absurd as it was. And what had he based his conviction on? On the fact that Alain had vanished from his sight, possibly with another man. Honestly... He loved Alain so much, yet the moment he stopped seeing him, he started to assume the words? Joshua Or, could you fall even more? Surely, he knew where that originated from: his self-esteem - very low, and his previous experiences and separations - very painful. If there was anything he feared in his life, it was that he would be left alone again, abandoned by others... by those he loved. He feared that incessantly, even though normally he wasn't aware of that, not every day, not even every week... Yet, he knew that fear existed, fuelled by the feeling, 'Who am I to believe that his interest would last for ever? How do I know that he wouldn't get bored with me one day?'

Maybe now he should reverse the situation? Maybe Alain felt exactly the same way or, at least, similar? Josh might consider him strong - that 'rock' from his name - and steady, so what? He might try to prove to Alain his own love, bordering with adoration, so what? If a person had doubts about himself, then all love of the world wouldn't be enough to make him believe... make him reassured. Josh swallowed a sudden - stabbing - realization that it was true what his therapist had once said: that no person is able to understand, to get known another person, not entirely. One could only learn about that other person, every day, but 'understanding of the souls', like romantic love was often described, wouldn't happen. Once you accepted that, you could build a relationship - based on mutual learning, not on assumption you knew everything about that other person just as he knew everything about you.

Josh had assumed that, since he'd always said he loved Alain, Alain should believe him without reservation, without objection, trust him in everything and never, ever, doubt him. Now he understood how naive it had been on his part. Man was a doubter by his very nature, and in case of them two - one prone to paranoia, the other to depression - the problems were imminent and demanding a hard work.

Josh finally raised his head and regarded Alain again. He shifted on the bed and was now sitting next to him, looking right in his face. Alain tried to avert his eyes once more, but it proved impossible at such a distance.

"I'm sorry," Josh repeated. "How can I compensate it to you?" he asked, fixed on the green irises, that now seemed almost black.

Alain stared at him mutely and then turned away. Josh kissed him, trying to keep that contact. He was glad that Alain didn't push him away, although he should be prepared for such a reaction, too. Well, he hadn't done anything wrong... yet making friends with Chloe might as well be a crime in Alain's eyes, he didn't know... However, Alain let him inside and embraced his shoulder, as if automatically. It bode well, all right, Josh decided, thinking intensely. If they could make up this way... it would be a proper solution. He was unable to imagine one could go to bed with a person he despised or held in contempt. Then, if Alain... with him... here... now...

"How can I compensate it to you?" Josh repeated once he managed to tore his mouth away from Alain.

Alain blinked, still silent. However, he seemed pretty much in a daze, which could explain something. If he still wanted Josh... after all that... that was even better. Suddenly, Josh realized they hadn't made love for a _week_... and that made him moan when his desire blazed hundredfold. Alain sought for his lips, and Josh sank in another kiss, that was nothing like those caresses in the morning... He tried to gather his thoughts... which proved... difficult... He'd had some... goal? What goal...? Now, he only had the impression that his mind was swirling in chaotic circles, all of them turning around Alain and what was between the two of them.

Only when Alain broke away to grasp some air, Josh remembered what he'd intended to do. Asking Alain was pointless; besides, it was obvious what Alain wanted. Josh undid his trousers - although his fingers seemed to belong to someone else - and Alain, probably instinctively, moved a bit to make things easier for him. Josh tended to him, trying not to think that all he wanted was Alain to touch him the same way - or any other - before he exploded, and doing anything to never let the fabric of Alain's trousers from his hands... to keep his hands away from his own body, otherwise... Such thoughts didn't help to remain focused, so he tried to imagine... snow, lots of snow, covering mountain peaks... Apparently, he managed to concentrate well enough, for Alain began to make proper, albeit muffled, noises, and his fingers clutched Josh's hair.

Josh, occupied as he was, couldn't smile although he felt like doing so - for the first time in many hours. Only know he realized he felt lighter at heart. And that there was some basic certainty in his life again. Yes, he really wanted to smile, so maybe it was high time to finish this job...?

Finally, Alain came, and quite loudly for him. Josh waited until the last spasm wore off and released him, then pushed him back onto the bed and kissed, giving him the opportunity to taste himself. Alain was breathing heavily, and Josh congratulated himself. Maybe there was still a chance to rebuilt what he'd nearly destroyed with his thoughtlessness...?

"I liked that sound," he whispered into Alain's ear. "I wonder what our neighbours will think about it..."

"Whatever they fancy," Alain replied between two shallow breaths. "We're leaving tomorrow. And besides... I saw them in the pub, I think they haven't come back yet..."

"I see," Josh said. "That's a pity."

Alain smiled, his eyes still closed. They lay like this for a quarter or so, and Josh tried to put his flaming desire under control... to no avail. In the end, he sat up and reached for a bottle of water, poured himself a glass and drank it up. It still wouldn't make him feel any colder.

"You didn't have to do that," Alain said finally.

"But I wanted," Josh replied without thinking, bending down over him. "We should have done it earlier," he decided.

"We're going home tomorrow," Alain noticed, and Josh moaned.

That thought, however, reminded him of another problem. "I'm glad we straightened this issue out," he said aloud. "But there's still one more."

"Hmm?" Alain opened one eye and gave him a questioning look.

Josh got up and smoothed out his shirt, then went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face. When he returned into the room, Alain was sitting on the bed, his trousers already zipped up.

"Come," Josh said, opening the door.

They made it to the ground floor with some difficulty, but it was with relief that Josh greeted the sound of the conversation coming from the living-room. Apparently, David had already recovered, more or less, which was convenient. Chloe must have known her husband well...

"Excuse me..." he called from the hall in order not to startle them, emerging suddenly from the dark corridor, and he couldn't be sure whether they'd heard them descending the stairs.

The conversation broke off, so he peeked into the room, with Alain next to him. David was sitting by the table while Chloe was standing by him, her hand on his shoulder. It seemed she'd forced a mug of hot tea upon him, which had probably helped, for his face looked a tad better. However, when he raised his eyes on them, pain could be seen in his slightly hazy gaze.

"We'd like... No, _I_ would like to apologize," Josh said from the doorway. "It seems there has been some... terrible misunderstanding," he felt bad speaking like that; it sounded so empty in his ear. "Especially after you've welcomed us here and helped us so much." Now David gave him a distrustful look. Ugh, whatever Josh might say it wouldn't convince the man... It was good he hadn't added, 'We like it so much here that we decided to stay one more week'. Now, that was some black humour on his part... He looked at Chloe, who was still having her hands on David's shoulders and seemed at a loss. He took a deep breath and looked at David again. "David, I'm not in love with Chloe."

Chloe blinked. David blinked, too, but in his case it could be just irritated eyes. "I..." he started and paused.

"I'm not in love with Chloe," Josh repeated. "I apologize for my behaviour, that could be seen that way... I just... I've never met a women like her," he said, his eyes darting to her again. "Never. Chloe is exceptional: beautiful, clever, and adorable. And so good. She makes other enjoy being with her. I think everyone would like to spend time with her, talk to her... Seeing her smile. I'd love to have a sister like her," he declared, putting into words what he'd been feeling for a week now and what was obvious for him only in this form. "If, of course, Chloe would accept such a brother..."

"Why should I not-" Chloe started, but he interrupted her.

"Chloe, I may love you like a sister... I don't really know since I've never had any siblings... but no other way. There's only one person I can love _this way_ , he said. "More than anything in this world," he added, giving her a meaningful look, then grabbed Alain by the shirt-front and kissed him. Alain hadn't seen it coming and didn't manage to react, but then Josh let him and looked at the couple again, trying not to see that David's face turned a shade of green. "If Chloe wanted _such a brother_... We should have told you earlier, right at the start... but these are not things you just tell everyone around," he repeated in a firm tone, but then his voice broke. "I hope you're not going to throw us out to the cold?" he asked timidly.

David and Chloe exchanged looks. Josh felt his heart beating fast, as if he waited for a sentence... Well, in a way, it was the case. He clenched his fists as the silence prolonged, emphasized by loud ticking of the clock.

Finally, David said slowly, "I think we wouldn't throw you out to the cold... even if we had some... valid reason."

Josh released his breath; he hadn't noticed he'd been holding it for a while. Suddenly, he was under the impression he would burst out crying. "That's... good," he replied in a strangled voice and lowered his eyes.

Then, however, he felt Alain's hand on his shoulder, and his head snapped up in surprise. Alain never did things like that in public... Apparently, he didn't mind that sudden action of Josh that he'd become involved in without asking. It warmed Josh's heart and gave him strength. He had courage to look Chloe in the eye once more. The woman was staring at him intensely - he couldn't read her gaze - and kept silent... although, he realized, it was her reaction he yearned for the most. And her acceptance.

"We had better go... We must pack up," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor again. Her silence ached him, but it just had to be that way... He was going to manage, somehow. He turn to leave.

"Joshua..."

"Good night..."

"Joshua, I'd love to be your sister," Chloe said strongly. He froze. "And I thank you for the words you've spoken," she went on. "I'm happy you think like that about me, I really am... But I fear I don't deserve it." He looked at her in astonishment. She removed the hand from her husband's shoulder and came closer. "Today, I learned something valuable about trust... And I know I still have a long way to go before I can become a person to be trusted." She glanced over her shoulder at David, who was sitting silently by the table, and then her eyes returned to Josh. "Thus, it is I who must apologize to you, Joshua. And thank you. And yes, I want to be your sister. I would like it anyway, even if it wasn't... even if _you weren't_ ," she said, shifting her eyes to Alain. Her gaze, so determined until now, softened, and then the corner of her lips stretched in a delicate smile. "Oh yes, definitely, you should have told us right at the beginning..."

"Yes?" Josh asked.

Her smile grew wider. "I would've let you have that double quilt, silly," she answered with a laughter, briefly embracing their shoulder.

"I bet you tried to think up that riposte when you were standing there saying nothing," Josh said sometime later, smiling and wiping a few treacherous tears.

"Of course I did!" she replied cheerfully and tousled his hair. "You know me already, my little brother. Ah, it's that late," she decided when clock struck ten. "Sleep well and get enough sleep before the travel... Or, do as you wish," she added with a spark in her eye and blinked.

When they were climbing the stair, never bothering to turn on the lights, Josh searched for Alain's hand. He could barely move his legs, and it took him all effort to simply make another step. Chloe's last remark... He moaned... Now he wished only... "Do with me whatever you please," he whispered. "But quickly..."

Alain squeezed his hand, and Josh promised himself it was the last week without Alain in his life.

* * *

 _Shout off your vocal chords 'till they are torn and cut - Olavi Uusivirta ja Anna Järvinen, "Nuori ja kaunis"_


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**  
 _ **(dein Glück liegt mir am Herzen)**_

* * *

The first week after returning to Paris was really good.

Josh did everything to compensate to Alain the neglect from Autrans. He wouldn't talk about their holiday in the mountains; he didn't write a single letter to Chloe, either, although occasionally he felt like doing so. Now, not that it came with difficulty to him; the memory of the trip filled him very conflicting feelings. He gave up a few lectures and seminars in order to come home earlier. He cooked tasty meals for Alain... well, in any case, he _cooked_. And he gave himself to Alain fully, silly as it sounded. Whenever he thought about it, he came to the conclusion that his motivation - at least, the main one - was not the fear of losing Alain's love, but the genuine feeling of guilt and regret about his own thoughtlessness.

The therapist would say that his viewpoint wasn't right. That it was a natural thing to want to be friends with other people, and nothing to feel remorseful about. That he shouldn't limit his feelings solely to Alain. That he was hurting himself that way and risked even greater suffering. That being glad with one's own happiness wasn't wrong, but it should be balanced with other things, too. Josh couldn't believe it. And even if some part of his mind - the reason, that would speak in Mr Ageais' voice - understood that, it would quickly burn in the flames of passion filling him.

And... Indeed, maybe he _was_ being guided by fear too, he admitted resignedly. Deep inside him was a belief that if he did his best... if he didn't give Alain any reason to complain about, then Alain would want to be with him. In such moments, he completely forgot about the wisdom that _one didn't love because; one loved despite._

Anyway, it lasted for one week, and then so-called life interrupted that idyll. Josh could no longer cut his classes as it might endanger his studies - and, for all his carelessness, he couldn't stifle the inner foreboding that he had better completed the sufficient amount of hours now, for he didn't know what might happen later. And here he thought he assumed that the future would always be bright and rose-coloured, ha ha... Apart from that, it appeared that the fourth term of psychology was the most demanding and overloaded with classes out of all ten, which resulted, among other things, from a month-length practice every student was obliged to have in June, after the exceptionally earlier end-of-term examinations. It meant that the material that otherwise would have been covered in about four months, was crammed in less than three. Belatedly, Josh concluded it to be some miracle he had had _any_ break this year... In any case, nearly every day he was forced to stay at the university until late afternoon, sometimes even evening, writing different papers and essays. The academic year would end with just two big exams while the rest of the courses would be passed either with the attendance or those additional - and not very simple - written works. If he had to choose, Josh would rather have ten exams in June that he could study for when time came, than to pore over books and notes for hours now that he had much better things to do...

Still, he had to admit that during the second year his studies became much more interesting. The first year - aside from the daze he'd spent it with, resulting from... well, his depression - seemed to only focus on answering the question, 'What the psychology was about?,' and approached the topic from various viewpoints. Josh still felt sick at the memory of the courses like philosophy or history of psychology... Now he couldn't resist the impression they finally got to the right thing as they started to learn about the processes occurring in human mind, which was what interested him the most. He proved to be a very attentive student during the developmental psychology classes and had a complete attendance of this sole course. After his several brave... well, maybe not discussions, for one entered the discussion with a proper knowledge... then, simply questions and comments, the professor even tried to invite him to the research circle that would gather weekly on Thursdays, but Josh politely wriggled out of it. Maybe he was interested in the field, but he had no desire to spend yet another evening far from Alain, even if it could help his future career that he wouldn't now spare a single though.

The truth was he actually looked forward to that practice he was to have in the early summer. They normally took place in hospitals, rest homes and other social service centres. He thought quickly at least in this matter, for he booked himself a place in a facility situated in the very centre of Paris. He didn't feel like spending half of a day commuting, and he heard that there wasn't enough vacancies for all students in the capital, and some had to settle for remote allocation. As far as he was concerned, he planned to come home as soon as possible, especially that the spring was going to be very busy...

He hardly had any time to cook with Mrs Bonnet, and he'd been so enthusiastic about it... Surely, Alain still didn't complain about the meals Josh prepared; what was worse, he was often forced to cook himself, for Josh would return later than he. Not that Alain cooked badly - Josh considered their skills to be at the similar level (only an idiot wouldn't be able to prepare a dish according to the detailed recipe, while Alain wasn't one) - nevertheless, he wasn't happy about that. He liked 'housekeeping'... though, when he thought about it, it probably also resulted from that urge of his to be responsible for everything and do everything right. Yes, 'a perfect housewife' sounded more and more familiar in his mind... Or, rather, _would_ sound if he hadn't had studies on his hands.

Their intimate life changed, too - and, unfortunately, it was a change for worse, for haste and tiredness came between them. After the whole day with lectures and seminars, or with the books and theses, Josh had no strength for any finesse in the bed, and thus their lovemaking soon started to follow one pattern. It was more often, though, that they went to sleep straight off, without frolicking. Josh didn't feel good about it, but he suspected that every relationship had the stages one could do nothing about, only endure them and wait for them to pass.

However, he wouldn't say he ceased being happy. Now that he couldn't afford anything more, he simply enjoyed Alain's presence - and the daily life they had. To be frank, how many couples had sex every day? According to the statistics he'd once come across, fifty percent didn't do it even once per week. He really shouldn't feel guilty about that - especially that, he was completely sure of it, it was just a passing phase. Once that terrible fourth term was over, they would make up for that spring strain.

For now, they tried to do so during weekends, but in mid-March, some time after Josh's birthday, Alain caught a bad cold, that evolved into pneumonia, and spent two weeks in bed, unable to even lift his hand, and then had been recovering for a longer while. Josh tended to him with care - whenever he hadn't classes, and that meant only late afternoons and evenings, which frustrated him greatly - but it was that time that they stopped making love altogether. Josh moved on the couch in the living-room so that Alain could feel comfortable in the bed, and later they simply didn't resume those particular activities.

Afterwards, when Josh looked back to that period, he would see it as a cause of the events that followed. However, if he tried to be honest with himself, he would admit it all had started much earlier.

* * *

The spring was in its height, but for Josh it might as well not exist; he could barely keep with his studies. University and high school were two different worlds; he had the impression that now he needed to master much greater material for just one test than for the final exam in Saint Grollo - and sometimes he would feel like quitting that all and never open the textbooks again. Each time, however, he would clench his teeth and resume his study, telling himself he just had to bear with it until June, and then the summer holidays would arrive - with no classes, no seminars, no essays, no staying in the library until late, and no cramming day by day.

At home, Alain was slowly recuperating. He'd been given a month sick-leave, for the disease had been really nasty and weakened him a lot. Josh was filled with remorse over not being able to take care of him as much as he wanted to, but Alain could manage by himself; he wasn't a child. Nevertheless, Josh even had considered asking Mrs Bonnet to look in on Alain from time to time during his being away, but Alain had raised an object right away. Apparently, he didn't intend to associate himself with the neighbours more than absolutely necessary - which, in his case, meant exchanging greetings on the staircase.

Speaking of that... The neighbour from the one-room flat next door suddenly moved out in March, but Josh learned from Mrs Bonnet that a new occupant would arrive in April. Still, he was surprised when one day, coming home, he met a young man climbing the stairs with a lagre box. He helped the stranger with his luggage that later appeared to be a cello, and the man introduced himself as Francis Vidal, a fourth year student in music conservatory. He made quite a good impression on Josh, especially when he assured that he played quietly and would make an effort to not disturb anyone, so they would hardly ever hear him. Josh had nothing against music - in high school, he'd himself used to play the clarinet for some period, although without any stunning success - yet he knew it was a different thing to be forced to listen to music practice day by day, and thus he greeted Francis' words with relief. Besides, he took liking to that tall, slim an freckled man in a slightly worn clothes. On behalf of the neighbourhood, he welcomed him to the house and hoped he would enjoy living here.

"We have a new next-door neighbour," he conveyed the news to Alain, entering the flat and shutting the door. "I completely forgot about him moving in this month," he added, taking his shoes off. "He's a musician and plays a cello. But he told me he wouldn't disturb us."

He approached Alain, who felt strong enough to get up from the bed, and kissed him. Alain still coughed from time to time, but the doctor said the worst was past him and he should no longer infect - and Josh himself had reached the conclusion that, since he hadn't caught anything from him until now, the chances he would do it now were little. It was such a gentle kiss all couples practised when daily life began to prevail over passion; it expressed affection, not lust, and led to nothing, so Josh wasn't surprised that Alain didn't even embraced him. They used to exchange such fleeting kisses every day, sweet ensuring of their love, when there was no time for others.

"I hope you'll feel better soon," Josh said, glancing at the calendar and realizing Alain had been sick for three weeks now. "I'm happy you're up already," he added, looking at him warmly.

Alain observed him closely and then nodded briefly. Josh went to the kitchen to put their dinner on the heat and set about unpacking his bag full of notebooks. He sighed. A few hours of studying awaited him today as well.

* * *

He would meet Francis Vidal on the staircase very often. The music student indeed didn't disturb them at all; actually, Josh heard him playing maybe once or twice, and very quietly, too. Francis proved to be a very merry young man with a habit of tapping his fingers whenever his hands weren't occupied by anything. He always had time for a chitchat, but as for this, Josh was careful. He could still remember the affair with Chloe, when he'd plunged in a new friendship without reservation and nearly brought about a disaster... It was better to not give Alain any reason to suspicion... that was, to doubts. It was enough that Alain had one day opened the door and started to observe him after he'd spent a quarter or so discussing with Francis about the superiority of cheesecake over any other desserts. Francis, coming from Normandy, was of the opinion that nothing in the world could compare with apple cake. Their voices must have carried up and down the staircase.

Josh waved to Alain to give him a sign he would come soon, and Alain withdrew into the flat.

"Right, you've mentioned you had a flatmate," Francis remembered. "I'd like to get to know him one day."

"Alain is still recovering from pneumonia," Josh replied, although he knew Alain was pretty well already. "He was terribly ill."

"I'm sorry to heart that. I hope my playing doesn't disturb his recuperation...?" the musician asked anxiously.

"Not at all. Like you said, we hardly ever hear you," Josh reassured him. "It's an old building with thick walls, so the flats are well isolated. Has anyone complained?"

Francis shook his head, but it seemed he mused over something else. "The two of you... How long have you been living here?" he asked.

"Since September... actually end of August," Josh replied. "That was when we moved to Paris... Well, I've been living in Paris for almost two years, but I stayed in dorms during my first year."

Francis nodded. "And Alain? He's studying as well?"

"No... He works. Though he's been on a sick leave nearly for a month now."

"Really? I thought you knew each other from the university...?" the music seemed surprised.

"No, we know each other from the school... from our home-town," Josh corrected him with laughter, and Francis frowned.

Josh supposed he knew what was forming on his mind - or, maybe not forming yet, only germinating... 'We decided to rent a flat together to save money,' he should say now. This worked in nine per ten cases... not that Josh had had to excuse - what a terrible word - his relationship with Alain to ten people already... Then, however, he remembered what had happened in Autrans, and decided it was high time to put a stop to making cover stories.

"We simply live together," he said with a smile, allowing Francis to interpret it as he pleased. "See you!" he called and returned to the flat pretty content.

For the next few days, he felt Francis avoided him, but he didn't really bother himself with it. If this new acquaintance were to be ended by one fact of Josh's life, it meant it wasn't something he should care about. Besides, maybe he was unfair; it could be that Francis was busy or kept returning home at different hours than Josh. It wasn't that they would run into one another every day before. And even if anything changed indeed, thanks to Josh's revelations... He didn't really need to be close friends with every tenant; civilised relations were enough. Actually, he knew most of the neighbours only by name, sometimes not even that, and he would recognize by face only lovely Mrs Bonnet, Mrs Morel from the ground floor - an odd elderly woman who fed the cats living in the cellar, Mr Dupont - who he'd managed to have a closer look at, when the man had flooded their flat and afterwards for several had days come by and almost begged forgiveness, and Pierre Roland, the journalist. He didn't have any urge to know all people living here, so he would manage without a closer familiarity with Francis either.

His suspicions, however, proved to be premature, for one afternoon - in mid-April and before the Easter - Francis knocked on their door, and when Josh opened it, he didn't notice anything unnatural in his behaviour.

"I think it's for you," the music started, giving him a letter. "It came yesterday, but I was quite late and didn't want to bother you... Recently, I've had rehearsals until evening," he explained.

Josh took the piece of mail from his hands and looked at the sender. _Georges Saphir_. He smiled. "I bet the postman made a mistake. Thank you," he said, looking at the neighbour again.

"No, there's an error in the address," Francis noticed.

Josh turned the envelope. _Joshua Or and Alain Corail, 33 rue Keller (15)_... Indeed, flat number fifteen, while theirs was number sixteen. "Hmm, Georges has always had an artistic hand," he decided diplomatically, giving Francis an apologetic look. "Probably, the postman didn't know where to put it, so he did it in numeric order. There's no name on the letter-boxes... Thank you very much, really," he said warmly.

Francis shook his head. "It's nothing..." he replied embarrassed. "Only..." it seemed he had some problem.

Josh was grateful to him, so he asked, "Yes?"

Francis scratched his head and then pointed at the letter. "It's stupid what I ask... But, is that, by any chance, _the_ Georges Saphir, that pianist...?"

Josh blinked. "Yes," he confirmed. "We attended the same school. He, Alain and I."

Francis' head snapped; the man stared at him like he'd just found a new idol. "You really know Georges Saphir? Blimey! That's incredible."

Josh felt a bit confused. "Well, not that we were any close friends," he said slowly, adding in thought, 'although we know such things about each other that hardly anyone knows, which makes us pretty special pals.' "We just... happen to know each other," he finished awkwardly. "Why do you ask, actually?"

Francis was still regarding him with adoration. "But Georges Saphir is one of the greatest music talents of our generation!" he exclaimed. "The composers are dying to have their works played by him. I heard some female composer had a mental breakdown and ended in hospital after he sent her notes back, refusing politely. My, I'd do anything to be able to play with him once... Not in a duet, just in a band...!"

He clasped his hands, nearly forgetting Josh, who silently observed that unexpected burst of admiration. Did all artists use to be so exalted? In fact, Georges had always appeared as if a smallest emotion could tear him to pieces; it was only later that he'd learned to cope with it...

Yet, he couldn't not smile. So Georges still made people go into raptures, like he'd used to in Saint Grollo? Not that it came as a surprise. Georges seemed to be born for it... If Josh hadn't known him better, he would've stayed away from him, as far as possible; things being as they were, he was aware that behind that face and a pose of an angel hid much more complex and apt nature. However, he wasn't going to reveal that to anyone. Some things concerned only the four of them: Georges and Robert and, to a lesser extend, Alain and himself.

"He's coming to Paris next week to play at a charity concert," Francis' voice interrupted his reverie. "Some of our best students will perform with him. Of course, many other artists will participate, too, but at the conservatory people talk only about Saphir. I've heard the tickets sold like hotcakes..." he informed with sadness... and then looked at the letter in Josh's hands and seemed to understand. "Ah," he said only, staring at the white rectangle longingly.

Josh overcame a sudden urge to press the letter to his chest. He couldn't be foolish... even if Francis did look like he was going to jump at him any moment. He might even regret his good deed to bring the mail here...? He could have as well keep it, and no-one would've even known about it while he would've benefitted... No, Josh was being very unfair, suspecting him of such things. He hoped nothing of that reflected in his face. He really wanted to help the nice neighbour somehow, only...

"Joshua... I need a word with you," Alain stood in the doorway.

Francis recovered from his stupor. "Then, I'll be going..." he said in a low voice and turned to leave.

Now he seemed very unhappy, and Josh felt guilty about his previous, really mean thoughts. "I hope you'll get the ticket," he tried to comfort him, although he might as well rub salt into his wounds. "I bet your school has some channels," he added with smile.

Francis nodded but said only goodbye and left with his eyes down.

Josh locked the door and returned to the room, grasping the envelope, in which he could feel some hard content indeed. Was there any way to get a ticket for Francis, too...? The guy was really okay, while Josh had suspected him of homophobia and everything else. But what could Josh do? In fact, nothing at all.

'Don't try to shoulder all troubles of the world yourself,' he heard a familiar voice inside his head. True, he shouldn't imagine he was able to help every man. Even those who were nice to him...

"Yes? What's the matter?" he asked, sitting down by the table and looking at Alain.

"Nothing," Alain answered.

Josh blinked. "What-"

"Don't you think he's very curious?" Alain threw.

"Who? Francis?" Josh was surprised. "Nah, I don't think so..."

"It was quite near that you told him that I am... that Grace... You know."

Josh mused. "And would it be anything bad?" he asked, although he had a vague impression that Alain was right.

"Why should he know about it?" Alain asked in reply. "It's not his business."

"True, he would never leave us alone," Josh agreed rather unceremoniously. He yawned and looked at the letter in his hand. "It's from Georges," he said quite unnecessarily.

For a while, he kept staring at the envelope with a silver pattern, then split it open and glanced inside. Two tickets fell out onto his palm - what a surprise - along with a sheet of paper. He looked at Alain and opened the letter.

"Happy Easter! Everything is all right here, and we hope it is so in your place as well," he read aloud. "We're going to be in Paris on Divine Mercy Sunday (here Josh winced at Georges' attachment to the church rite, that apparently hadn't changed) at a concert and we'd love to meet with you if you have no other plans. I hope you'll be able to come. I send you the tickets. Warmest regards, Georges and Robert."

Josh took the tickets and looked at the inscription. "It's very nice of them to remember about us, don't you think? They must have tons of friends... Well, right, _you_ are almost a relative," he said, raising his eyes on Alain and being amazed at the sudden grimace on his face. Apparently, Alain still couldn't reminisce Grace calmly. Or maybe he just had a bad day... "Really, I'm looking forward to see them again," he declared, smiling and recalling their last meeting during Erwin's stag party... which seemed to have happened in another life. "And you?"

Alain remained silent for a while. "I don't want to."

Josh raised his eyebrows in astonishment. He hadn't expected that. Alain really acted strangely today. "You don't want to meet them?" he asked in disbelief.

"I don't want to... go to the concert," Alain replied reluctantly.

"In that case, I'm going to have Francis accompany me," Josh said casually, stretching his arms over the table. "He'll be grateful to me for the rest of his life."

It was a very shoddy provocation, yet it worked, for Alain became gloomy, spent some time sitting in silence and then finally nodded to consent. Josh tried to ask him about the cause of his reaction, but Alain didn't want to talk about it and soon announced he was going to bed, giving him understand he had yet to recover, even though it had been a month since his illness. Josh could wonder about it, but momentarily he chose to focus on the very happy vision of meeting with his friends.

Well, he could tell Francis that he and Georges Saphir were only schoolmates, but in truth theirs was much closer relation; at least he considered it to be. Now that he thought about, he came to the conclusion there were few people he'd ever got as much support from as Georges and Robert and whom he himself trusted so much. Those two knew about him all that was worth knowing. Even Erwin and Cecile, who were his best friends, didn't know - or, rather, wouldn't like to know - some aspects of his private life, the ones he could openly talk with Georges and Robert about, if he felt like doing so, for he knew they would understand him. Who it was that he'd recently told that he treated Erwin and Cecile like his brother and sister...? Ah, right, Mrs Bonnet. Yes, that was probably the reason. And one didn't talk with siblings about anything, wasn't that so? If he were to write that letter to Chloe, that, in the end, he hadn't even started, he would surely leave some things unmentioned...

In any case, the concert was quite soon. Josh looked at the calendar on the kitchen door and realized it was Holy Tuesday already, which made him wince again. Apparently, he was no better in the matter of that church terminology... Then, Friday would be free, and on Thursday the classes would be shortened; he would be free as soon as noon. Easter was in a few days; he'd paid no attention. Should he prepare a festive meal? He probably could still remember something about Easter tradition, hmm... Eggs, hmm... Eggs. Yes, definitely. Cheesecake? No, it belonged to Christmas... He scratched his head and then thought that the next issue of 'Perfect Housewife' wouldn't arrive before the holiday. Maybe he should use the opportunity of finishing earlier on Holy Thursday and go to Mrs Bonnet? But if she were busy...? Nevertheless, it didn't hurt to try and ask whether she could teach him to prepare just one holiday dish... Still, the lack of Plan B discouraged him a bit.

Well, he concluded, in case he weren't successful... he would have to hope that Alain wouldn't notice it was Easter...? Lastly, Alain neither went out nor associated himself with others. They no longer had a television and didn't buy newspapers either; it was possible Alain hadn't realized the flow of time... But then, how would Josh explain to him the need to go outside in the middle of the day, for the High Mass...? Josh tousled his hair out of frustration and decided that holidays were rather complicated when staying in relationship.

* * *

The next day, he dropped in on Mrs Bonnet to ask about Thursday. The old woman was happy to see him and gladly offered help. Thus, on Holy Thursday he returned home with two shopping bags, filled with the groceries she'd written down for him. He had some three hours, so learning to cover the whole Easter table was out of question; yet, they managed to prepare roast lamb that only needed to be warmed up in an oven and doused with the gravy - Josh received the detailed instruction on mixing it and an assurance he would do perfectly well - and baked a cake on a crust that would stay fresh until Sunday. Josh learned how to make a good salad that, according to Mrs Bonnet, should sit well with the rest of meal. The price he paid was listening to her incessant comments about how 'cute' he was, applying himself to cooking like that, 'sweet' since he took care of his household, and 'lovely' for thinking of the others - as well as everything else because the elderly woman just wouldn't stop talking.

"And how is it going in your family, Mrs Bonnet...?" he asked, dicing the vegetables for the salad, when he managed to speak.

"Ah, dear, it couldn't be better," the neighbour seemed pleased with his question, for she spent the next quarter or so, telling him how her Anne and Fleur were doing, how often they would visit her, and that Anne's parents had stopped criticizing their daughter's way of living completely. Anne had brightened and improved her school results, for she could focus on studying easier, now that she didn't need to worry about the situation at home; and Fleur appeared very cultured and helpful person, able to discuss many things. "Just like you, dear," Mrs Bonnet, equally prone to sharing compliments and criticism, added.

Josh listened to her with an acute wish he had the relatives... no, just one relative who would treat him so nicely... accept him... It was a wonderful thing when family members mutually supported one another, parents and grandparents... When they loved their children without conditions and always were on their side. Then, however, he quickly decided he should be happy that he hadn't any relatives who would deny him, which could happen as well, for it used to happen often... No, he wouldn't endure it. And then he realized such reflection was pointless, for he'd managed pretty well without family for most of his life... and now he had Alain.

"What about you and Mr Alain?" the elderly woman seemed to read his mind, although she threw that question very casually, opening a tin of peas.

Josh stopped chopping the parsley and stared outside the window. The sunlight was coming in from above the opposite house. "He had a bad pneumonia, he's still recuperating," he replied, wondering whether these words sounded strangely false only in his ears. Suddenly, he was under the impression that Alain's illness had become a kind of excuse... but for what?

"Oh, that's why I haven't seen them since March!" Mrs Bonnet exclaimed and then added in an undertone, "And believe me, I looked out for him frequently. I bet he stayed at home all that time...?"

"Yes... He still does," Josh corrected, frowning. Why it was that he hadn't noticed that earlier...? Sure, the doctor had given Alain a month sick-leave, but it couldn't possibly mean that Alain would be... bedridden and limited to his flat for four weeks? "He should already get moving, shouldn't he...?"

"Now, I'm not so sure," the woman shook hear head and handed a bowl to him. "Pneumonia is a nasty disease. It can sometimes stick to a man a month or two..."

Josh looked at her. "Really?" he asked with some hope.

"Well, that, of course, depends on a person," she added with a wise expression. "But a young man should recover quickly. In any case, I'm sorry to hear that he fell ill."

Josh lowered his eyes again, pouring the chopped vegetables into the bowl. For some reason, he didn't feel consoled with her remark. "I'm worried about him," he said in a quiet voice, as if realizing it only now. "I didn't expect it to last for so long..." he stated, unsure whether he was talking about Alain's health or something else.

All of the sudden, he noticed that their present life looked completely different than just a month ago. It had happened so slowly, so inconspicuously... they simply had started to drift apart, day by day more... He felt very bad and muster all his strength to focus on the conversation.

"I think you should give him time," Mrs Bonnet suggested, but then he realized she was still talking about Alain's disease. "The most important thing is to recover fully, without any complications."

"Actually, that pneumonia was a complication," Josh smiled weakly and began mixing the vegetables in the bowl. "It all started from some trivial cold..."

"But he'll surely get better soon with your caring for him," she commented, pushing salt and pepper to him.

Josh nodded, thoughtful, paying no attention to the tone of her voice. "I'm not sure whether it'll suffice... Now, it's somehow different than before," he said slowly, considering his words. Yes, it was _different_ ; he only couldn't tell _how_ different. And why. "We hardly ever talk... I'm terribly busy with my studies," he threw in an apologetic voice, although he didn't know who it was he apologized to. "Today is the first day I finished as soon as noon, and it was only because of the Easter holidays..."

"Poor thing..." Mrs Bonnet said, but he didn't even listen to her.

"We even haven't... for a longer while..." He fell silent, forgetting about the salad, overwhelmed by an image emerging from his story. "I have no idea when it began..." Yes, now that he thought about it, he could clearly see that their last weeks had been looking like this: they seemed to be together, but without that intimacy they'd shared for over half a year.

"Maybe you had a fight?" Mrs Bonnet prompted.

Josh shook his head. "No... we've just... grown apart," he replied, talking rather to himself than anyone else.

"But, surely, you have an idea how to mend it?" the woman suggested.

Josh blinked and fixed his eyes on her, observing her for a few seconds... Her smile was so innocent it made him shook his head meaningfully and disapprovingly... "Mrs Bonnet... Sometimes when I listen to you, I become scared," he declared, but then he felt like smiling himself, and the heavy load over his chest vanished. Unbelievable.

"Never forget, dear, that I have forty years greater experience in love than you," she stated the obvious, clearly content. "Believe me: some methods always work out."

Josh blinked a few times, realizing that was what she'd been trying to tell him for a longer while already. Maybe that was the right way. She'd restored his hope with just one remark when he'd plunged into despair and dark visions right away.

"Yes, now all you need is to add some pepper," she said, and it took him a moment to understand she spoke of the salad.

He blushed and said nothing; instead, he began to dress the meal with salt, pepper, and mayonnaise.

When cooking was over and Josh was climbing up to his fourth floor with his hands occupied, he couldn't not wonder about how strange life could be. For all his imagination, he would've never expected he would get tips on his love-life from an elderly lady. On one hand, it unpleasantly pinched at his dignity and independence - and, what followed, his ability and skill to decide about himself - but on the other hand, he admitted that Mrs Bonnet could be right. She must have experienced many things in her marriage, that had lasted for decades, and she knew her stuff. Sometimes it was better to look for the easiest solutions, and not analyse everything inside out, which _he was_ good at, but which didn't always _do him_ good.

Thus, it was with some resolve that he entered the flat and took his package to the kitchen. Honestly, he'd let that unfavourable condition last too long; at least, now he could see clearly it was unfavourable, but he was still mad at himself he hadn't realized it earlier... Damn the university and studies, damn the fatigue and illness. Once, he would dismiss it as insignificant - so when it was that he'd become so fretful? It was high time to restore what once - not so long ago - had been between Alain and him, so intense, so _palpable_. That thought raised his spirit, for he used to hate unproductive self-pity more than anything.

"It's late... Where have you been?" Alain asked, appearing in the kitchen door when Josh was shoving the lamb dish to the fridge.

"At Mrs Bonnet's place," Josh replied cheerfully, trying not to think that Alain's voice was somewhat offensive. "She helped me to prepare some Easter delicacies." He put the cake on the cupboard, wrapped in a cloth, and turned to Alain. "Sorry to be late again. But thanks to it we'll have nice holiday," he added with a shy smile.

Alain said nothing, only stepped aside and let him go to the hall, where Josh took off his shoes and hung the jacket.

"How are you?" he asked, approaching Alain and putting one hand on his shoulder. "I thought that... maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow?" he suggested.

Alain remained silent and only observed him with a frown... then moved a bit, and Josh's hand fell down.

"Tomorrow I have a day off; we have no classes. I don't have to go anywhere," Josh went on, in case Alain didn't remember.

"That's good," Alain replied, although it seemed talking didn't come easy to him.

"If there's a fine weather, we can spend some time in the open," Josh try to persuade him. "You're going back to work next week, right?" Alain nodded. "Then, it's a good idea to have some physical activity before. And there's Georges' concert, too," Josh reminded, looking at him warmly, or so he hoped.

Alain was still standing on the spot, silent, and staring at him blankly, as if he didn't hear Josh's words at all. Josh felt that stinging sensation in his stomach again but didn't pay attention to it. He came closer and rested his forehead against Alain's breastbone, waiting for the familiar arms to embrace him.

"I'm sorry. We've hardly had any time for each other," he muttered in the fabric of Alain's shirt. "No, it was _I_ , who had no time. Instead of you, I focused on my studies too much. I can't say it won't happen again..." he stated with reluctance. "But now, at least now that I have a few days off..." What was he saying, actually? He felt like hitting his head. "No, I'm sorry. I did it in a wrong way. It's not like that. No matter what, I won't let something like this happen again, I promise. I was thoughtless, I'm sorry." He raised his face and kissed Alain, gently, invitingly... waiting for the response.

However, Alain was standing still and stiff, with his arms down, without any reaction. And then, what was worst, he moved back and shook his head with some hesitation. "I... don't feel well," he said. "I'm... tired," he added, as if it could make him sound more convincing, then turned back and went into the bedroom.

Josh stayed in the middle of the room with a feeling like he'd been hit, trying to understand what had just happened, but all thoughts escaped from him, unable to be caught, unable to be gathered. Good mood that Mrs Bonnet had helped him to regain, was gone, replaced by that hopelessness - dark, sucking out whole warmth and joy, taking away whole faith. Involuntarily, he pressed shaking hands to his chest and wondered whether he'd just witnessed the end... of what had once been _Alain and Josh_. He couldn't get rid of that idea; it occurred to him instinctively, automatically... and it was more an emotion than a thought... it inflicted pain, as if his chest was squeezed by an iron hoop, crushing everything inside. He took a deep breath and was amazed at being able to do so when his throat was completely clenched.

No, he couldn't think like this; there was no reason for it. Yes, it was so. Alain was _unwell_. And _tired_. True, he'd never before pushed Josh away like that, but it was also true that the situation hadn't been like now before. Yes, he was tired. Alain was tired after a long illness and had yet to get his strength back. It was the only explanation. He forbid himself to consider others, for - whenever he allowed himself a shadow of doubt - that pain in his chest would crush his heart and make his thoughts disperse again. Somehow, he survived that evening, but if anyone asked him what he'd been doing, he wouldn't be able to answer.

Later, when he went to rest - on his side of the bed - he could hear Alain wasn't asleep. He didn't dare to speak, though. He feared that if he said anything, he would be replied by silence - heavy, indifferent, and devoid of any feeling.

* * *

 _I care deeply about your happiness - Söhne Mannheims, "Dein Glück liegt mir am Herzen"_


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**  
 _ **(I'd like to say something good on myself)**_

* * *

The next day was, however, just like always. That was, just like always in the last few weeks. They got up in the morning, they dressed, and they exchanged superficial remarks during the breakfast. Josh nearly forgot what had happened the previous evening and instead concentrated on his day off and upcoming holidays. He tried to focus on the positives, although, in the background, the constant fear gnawed at his mind: fear for himself, fear for Alain, fear for _them_... And there was also anger directed at his own, for he couldn't react in the proper way, which meant clearing the situation up.

Where was that boldness from his teens, when he'd been able to ask about most incredible things...? But, he remembered right away, it had never been so with Alain. With Alain, he'd always thought of what he should say and what left unspoken; what reveal and what keep to himself. With Alain... Josh had worried all the time he would repulse him with some careless remark or commentary, would make Alain never want to know him... Only starting the last summer... when they'd finally got intimate... when they'd finally started to _be together_.. only then there had been that openness and genuine honesty between them. Only then Josh had had a feeling that he could say his heart out - and nothing bad would follow. He'd been sure of Alain's love and that Alain would stay; that he wouldn't turn away and leave if there were something not to his liking.

And now they returned... _he_ returned to that previous stage, from a few years ago. He should ask outright, 'Alain, what's going on? Has anything happened? Do you have any problem? Why aren't we talking? Why don't you... want me?' That last thought made his throat clench again. Yes, he should ask about that; he should extract from Alain the reason for his cold behaviour. And, if it was him at fault, he should do anything to defuse the crisis - what a terrible word... Still, that fear to be rejected was stronger, and Josh realized that the last four years hadn't changed nothing about it. Now, this very moment, Alain was still next to him, was still there, here, in this room, even if he seemed some light-years away. If the alternative was Alain's complete absence... then Josh didn't really need to think about his choice. A voice in his head told him it was all in vain; that sooner or later - if he didn't do anything quickly - the situation would only grow worse and he would lose what he had now... but he just _couldn't do anything_... It was stronger than he, and he felt very bad about it. It wasn't even noon, yet he was already pretty depressed, even though he'd tried to think positively this morning.

He could only observe Alain in silence, which only worsened his mood. Alain prowled around the flat without any occupation - he would go back to the bedroom to rest on the bed; then he would come to the living room and look outside the window for a longer while. Then he sat down on the coach, staring at the ceiling, and then got up and peeked into the hall. After half an hour of looking at that, Josh was filled with a feeling of objection, for it was not Alain he'd known. Was it how his all days looked like recently, when Josh was at the university? Before, Alain would at least read, do crosswords or help with the household... he would surely not moon around pointlessly. Well, in that case, it was a good thing he would finally return to work after Easter, for apparently staying home didn't do him any good... Or could it be that peculiar apathy and torpidity resulted from... from Josh? Could it be that Alain didn't really want to be here... with him... saw no point in it...? Josh lowered his head and swallowed... before rising his eyes again and glancing at his beloved man, who approached the window once more to look out at the yards from behind the net curtain.

"If..." Josh started and cleared his throat, "If you want, we can go outside. It's a nice day..." he added, staring at the sky. The weather was fine indeed, as he noticed, even though the sun was hardly to be seen; at least, it wasn't raining. The park was probably green, with the flowers blooming. It would be really nice to have a walk...

The park... When it was that they'd been there for the last time? He couldn't remember, but he knew it had been over a month ago... Winter had been only at its end... and now it was spring already; the season had changed. Josh had been so busy with his studies and home, he'd paid little attention to his surroundings. Really, what had happened with his life? Was it his fault?

"Alain...?"

Alain only shook his head, and Josh felt dejected again. Suddenly, he wished he could talk to someone who would cheer him up, support him and maybe give him some advice. Erwin... No, in Erwin's case, Alain was a kind of taboo... He shouldn't be distressed with any unpleasant details. Erwin should believe that Josh is doing perfectly well, _even_ with Alain Corail. If Josh opened to him about his current problems - or, rather, fears - Erwin would say, 'What have I told you?' Well, he probably wouldn't say it... but give to understand, and it was what Josh wouldn't be able to bear. Or, maybe... maybe Josh felt reluctant about confiding in Erwin not because of Erwin but because of himself...? He'd been so convinced about his happiness, that now, when it was suddenly gone, he felt... ashamed of his failure? No, he couldn't tell Erwin that things had taken turn for worse, that the idyll was over, because it would mean admitting his own... What? Mistake? Deficiency? He realized that the need to always be right and make no errors was still very strong in him. Erwin had always considered him a person to cope with anything... If he started now to tell Erwin that something went wrong in his relationship, then... he would prove to be inferior to what others believed him to be, wouldn't he? No, he couldn't do it; it wasn't an option.

Chloe? Chloe didn't know him as well as Erwin did, so she wouldn't make any comparisons neither draw any conclusions... But with Chloe - even though she shone in his memory like a ray of light during a cloudy day - he hadn't even started a contact after his return to Paris. Now he wasn't sure whether he would ever do... Besides, what could she help? Well, she _had_ greater experience, and she was a wise and warm person, yet... He couldn't just write to her and start talking about his problems; it wouldn't be proper.

Mrs Bonnet had tried to advise him yesterday, and instead the matter had only got worse... Although he couldn't blame _her_ for it... Actually... Actually, he realized, he would like to talk to Mr Ageais - an impartial, uninvolved person - but his therapy was over... For a moment, he wished he had agreed to continue it... but then he thought that, even if Mr Ageais shared any suggestion with him, Josh wouldn't even use them, for he couldn't see himself and his problems from a distance... or he didn't really want to accept the therapist's viewpoint, clinging to his own and considering it the only right.

The feeling of loneliness was so strong he almost cringed. But, as he thought quickly, he had brought it upon himself. Focusing all his feelings on Alain, he - more or less consciously - cut himself from other people. 'Alain is enough for me.' 'As long as I have him, I don't need anyone else.' 'I only want to be with him.' Yes, those arguments sounded very familiar. Mr Ageais said such thinking is wrong, but Josh kept on maintaining his tunnel vision. And, as a result, he was sitting here, in his own flat, with a man he loved more than anything... and felt the most desolate soul in the world.

No, he couldn't cry. Not here. He started up from the couch and ran to the hall, hurriedly put on his shoes and fled outside, where somehow he managed to hold back his tears. But he walked with his head down, and it was not until his legs brought him to the canal by the Place de la Bastille that he dared to raise his eyes and have a look around. It was really spring outside. He didn't feel cold even though he had only a shirt on and the sun was still hiding behind the clouds. The bushes and the trees were green, and there were flowers, too... On the other hand, people were hardly to be seen - well, it was Good Friday today, so many were probably occupied with Easter preparations. Josh sat down on the bench and, staring apathetically at the moored boats and the gulls jumping over them, he tried to pull himself together and find a solution for this status quo... but he was under the impression he still wanted only to cry. He couldn't think of anything, for the feeling he'd been rejected once more, seemed to crush his mind, depriving him of the ability to form any conclusions or ideas. He was really pathetic.

'It's not who is pathetic,' he could hear a voice in his head. 'At the very most, your situation may be. Pathetic. Harsh. Depressing. Dead end. It's only natural sometimes you're not able to find a solution right away, but it doesn't mean there's none. Man always strives to find a way out of a difficult situation, it's a natural instinct. And he finds it. Even if you think the world has ended, it is not so. Even if you think you've brought it upon yourself, it's not so. You can influence pretty few things in your life; it may seem depressing, but in fact it's consoling. Taking the whole responsibility on yourself means hurting yourself - and being conceited, which will harm you even more. You will make a step forward when you realize that you're not responsible for everything.'

Josh blinked. When Mr Ageais had said so, it had sounded sensible and Josh had even agreed with him, but now... when everything was really collapsing, he could only think how pathetic he was and not good enough. It _was_ his fault. He _must_ have done something wrong if Alain no longer wanted him...

'During hard times it's easy to succumb to self-accusations,' the voice wouldn't let him be. 'Then you stop seeing things clearly, with everything starting to spin around your own, usually delusional, sense of guilt. What should you do to break that chain of unproductive reproach? At first, you should remember those _good_ things about yourself. No-one is perfect, but no-one is worth nothing either! If you blame yourself for something, think about the things you could thank yourself for. It may be that you've cleaned your flat or went to the university. That you smiled to another person. Or that you've got up from your bed to live through another day. You'll quickly find there are more positives than negatives.'

Okay, but what did it matter that he'd made Alain a breakfast today and prepared the Easter meal yesterday? Such things just didn't matter... meant nothing against...

'People like you, who have a tendency to see everything in black and white,' he remembered another remark of his therapist, 'are extremely prone to... well, colloquially saying, exaggeration. They can't see anything between. You're either perfectly happy or completely depressed, aren't you? And in both conditions you pay no attention to anything else. Euphoria is a nice state indeed, it feels good to be in one: bothering yourself with nothing, only feeling pleased - and actually being blind to any bad things, although it hardly leads to any real danger. But when we talk about the opposite - the depression - then the danger is imminent. Thus, it's very important to work out the ability to see the whole spectrum; once you do it, you'll be able to draw to a halt, say yourself 'STOP', instead of sliding down an inclined plane right to the bottom... even though that sliding often seems the most natural thing, consuming the least energy, right? I'm not blaming neither judging you, but I suppose you know what I'm talking about: that reluctance to try and change your way of thinking when you go through a hard time.'

Yes, Josh knew that perfectly well - both when Mr Ageais had told him about that for the first time and now. That it was much easier to wallow in his misery, to give himself to self-pity, and to confirm himself in the conviction that his was utterly hopeless, than muster his energy and try to interrupt that unproductive train of thoughts, even though he knew which was the better option. Mr Ageais didn't criticize him, he rather stated the obvious - that in such moments _feeling_ pulling down was stronger than _reason_ pulling up - but, what was the most important, he never advised to lose hope. 'I am of the opinion that a man is a master of himself, and it is he who makes a decision, always. Even if your way of thinking and feeling have developed in a bad, wrong way, it's still possible to influence them, to modify them, if you work on it. It's never too late to learn it, to try.'

And, despite never having done so until now, this time Josh - maybe guided by that hope that the therapist had placed in him - decided to get out of his dumps. After all, he hadn't attended the therapy for nothing, right? It would be totally pointless to not benefit from it; he could at least make an attempt. He didn't want to spend the whole day depressed, did he? He really should snap out of this melancholy, even if there was some reason for it... But was there, now? Something wrong was going on with Alain, but was it Josh's fault? Was there anything he should reproach himself for? Well, there was - he'd devoted too much time to his studies instead of Alain; that was a fact, but did it really explain everything? Besides studying, he had been loving and caring, he'd been concerned and run their household. He'd smiled at Alain and wanted to be by his side. He'd applied himself to make their daily life as pleasant as possible. And... He'd never imagined himself, of all people, to say it, but there were more important things than sex. Could Alain not appreciate it? Could it be that being in a relationship meant only physical love for him? But yesterday Josh had wanted... yet Alain... Or maybe it was too late already...?

No, such thinking would only depress him more. As long as he kept everything to himself, he wouldn't move forward, he came to the conclusion - and it was the wisest thought that occurred to him today. He had to explain things with Alain; he should ask and be answered. And, if some split had happened indeed... he had to do everything to make the two of them become intimate again. It was not impossible... and he'd already had some experience in that. He _could_ reach Alain... and Alain, so far, had always wanted to be with him. That was what he should believe in. Then, first he would try to explain things. And apologize. For anything. For everything. Apology was always welcomed. And if it didn't help, he would have to be patient. There was no other way.

If... He swallowed at that thought, for it was hard to accept... If Alain had fallen in love with someone else... he would have no longer been there, right? But where and when could he have fallen in love in someone if he hadn't been leaving home for a month and seen no-one at all? No, that option seemed completely improbable, which meant Josh still had some... chances. Or, could it be, that Alain was that kind of person that sometimes needed to withdraw? Maybe it was Josh who... gave him too little freedom, suffocated him with his affection and presence? Maybe what suited Josh didn't suit Alain? Or, at least, not all the time? But he wouldn't say it, for he didn't use to say such things aloud...? While Josh was happy with anything and never asked - and only now he suddenly woke up surprised that the situation had changed, when it had been changing for several weeks already. He really was hopeless...

No, stop. He still could do something about this, just like he'd decided a moment ago. Besides... if anything... both of them were hopeless. All those beautiful word... well, at least, all those displays of affection... and when push came to shove, they couldn't even confide in each other when doubtful or anxious. Josh had imagined that there was a complete trust between them while in reality - just like Mr Ageais had said - he'd lied to himself...

But he could remedy it, he told himself with new vigour. He had yet to think up how to do it, but he would surely manage. The whole life was ahead of them. Probably most couples ran across the difficulties, resulting from the fact that both partners were the individuals: with their own psyches, views of life, ways of being, and so on. Romantic belief of two halves of one whole might be as well considered a fairytale, for a relation between two people was based on mutual adjustment, not duplicating one's own reflection. He was certain that even Erwin and Cecile - who, for him, were a model of a happy relationship - sometimes encountered a thing that divided them. Honestly, it was just the first hardship Alain and he had encountered; he shouldn't draw back and despair, and believe all evil of the world had fallen upon him...!

Since Alain and he experienced difficulties with communication - which had been proved - they needed to work on it and copy with them in an effective way. If Alain had troubles speaking of his matters, Josh had to make an effort to get them out of him. But it wouldn't be possible as long as he believed everything was fine. Yes, it was the most easiest thing to do: assume that things were going smoothly... Now, it was time to put an end to it. From now on, he had to have his eyes wide open in order not to miss the truly important things. It was also a good idea to stress, in every occasion, that Alain could trust him. They were together for better and for worse. Maybe Alain didn't want to burden him with his own problems, even though Josh would gladly accept them? Still, he realized it was not so obvious, sharing the problems... He, too, had a tendency to deal with difficulties by himself, to not worry others... Yes, he could understand perfectly well that Alain might do the same.

They _were_ hopeless.

Josh raised his head and looked at the sky, every now and there blue among the clouds. Maybe they were, but he didn't intend to lose hope. Just like he'd just told himself, they'd gone through difficult times, too, yet they'd always managed to recover and obtain their happiness again. Why should it be the opposite this time?

His gait, as he walked home, was that of a man who had seen a light at the end of a tunnel and knew where he should head for.

"It cleared up," he called cheerfully from the doorway when Alain appeared in the hall. "And it's very warm. We can go to the park-"

"Were you followed?"

Josh blinked. What kind of question was that? Involuntarily, he looked back. "I don't think so..." he replied and heard that the door was shut somewhere in the staircase. "Or maybe... I don't know." He took his shoes off and entered the room, glancing at the clock. It was nearly two... He'd been out for a longer while, and it was high time to prepare the dinner.

Alain was still standing there, hesitating expression on his face. Josh approached him and brushed his cheek. "Alain, what's going on?" he asked, looking him in the eye.

Alain blinked. Josh thought distractedly that his hair was already getting into his eyes - no wonder since he'd visited the barber before their trip to the Alps... He moved the brown hair aside to be able to look in those green irises, driving away the thought they were staring at him as a complete stranger... "Can you not tell me?" he asked in a soft voice.

Alain blinked again, and something flickered in his gaze, maybe some realization, some emotion... He closed his eyes an then opened them again. "I..." he started and paused.

Josh waited patiently. "You know you can trust me," he said, putting his all feeling in those words. "You can, can't you?"

Alain said nothing. Silence in the flat was so deep one could hear the sound of water moving in the pipes, as well as barking of a dog outside. Josh kept looking Alain in the eye, but Alain could no longer withstand his glance. Josh thought that Alain really had some concern, some serious problem that he, Josh, couldn't help him with...

No, he mustn't think like this; every problem could be dealt with, especially in the two. Like they said, two heads were better than one. He opened his mouth to say, 'Alain, you don't need to fret about that alone, we'll help it together,' but that moment in the building, somewhere on their floor, the door were slammed, and Alain's head snapped, breaking that fragile contact Josh had managed to have with him. Then he turned back to look in the direction of the neighbouring flat, and withdrew into the bedroom without a word, leaving Josh with a heavy heart.

However, instead of plunging into despair, Josh settled about the dinner, reflecting that for a moment, for a split second, he'd managed to see inside Alain. What he'd seen in his gaze, doubt, despair, even fear... It didn't fill with optimism. For the umpteenth time, he had to remind himself that Alain was only human, just like him, not a hero capable of doing anything and dealing with any problem. Even if Josh would like to see him as a strong and decisive person - for he'd always sought someone who would take care of him - the reality was different.

Alain was in trouble, he thought, peeling the potatoes... It was obvious now. What kind of trouble? Financial? Occupational? Personal? My, Josh had been terribly self-centred, focusing only on his own unhappiness. Really, he wasn't fit for relationships himself, if he couldn't see father than the end of his nose and realize that his beloved person was bothered by something serious. He was such an egoist that...

Stop. Fine, he was an egoist - which wasn't really fine, but it was not a problem here - yet he wouldn't do anything with that now. He should think about Alain, not himself. Actually, he stopped wondering why Alain hesitated to fill him in on his troubles. How could he ever trust someone like this...? Josh himself wouldn't trust someone of whom he knew that person focused only on himself...

He hit a potato on his forehead, and again, to steer his thoughts towards the right course. What kind of troubles might Alain have? Since they'd started to live together, he'd seemed to lead a very normal life. If it was about the free time, Josh was perfectly sure there was no reason to be anxious. Alain came back home in the afternoon and didn't go out in the evening. He didn't hang about the city in a bad company. He didn't drink alcohol. He didn't get into the rows; he hardly ever associated with anyone. No, nothing could be happening in this area.

Then, could it be about his work? Josh knew _absolutely nothing_ about Alain's job - and maybe it was a mistake, after all? Well, it had to be a regular job, for Alain would always leave and return at the same time. Could he get in any trouble there? Some unpleasant situation with co-workers? With his boss? Maybe with customers? Maybe someone had complained about him? Ugh, it was quite hard to make any speculations, since he had no idea what, where and with whom Alain's occupation occurred. Still, this option didn't really fit, either... Alain had been on a sick-leave for a month, and he could only think of his work, at the very most. And, the more Josh wondered about it, the more he was sure their... troubles started later. Probably. Now he felt like tearing his hair out due to his own thoughtlessness and lack of interest in surrounding reality. And he had once considered himself a pretty good observer who hardly ever missed anything...

Oh no, he'd come here _again!_ He definitely was in need of a longer therapy, in order to stop _always_ direct every thread at himself. Mr Ageais would say it was an important thing, to realize one's own thoughts and emotions, but what he did was already extreme exaggerating. And didn't help him to focus on the important thing.

What if Alain had no work? Or, at least, not the one Josh imagined? Maybe he dealt with some... suspicious business? Josh felt bad just assuming it... but he had to consider every possibility, unpleasant as it was. At some point, Alain hadn't conducted himself well, associating with people no decent person would like to ever had to do with... Moreover, having only graduated from high school, it couldn't be easy to find a job that would be paid highly... And yet he could afford living in the centre of Paris and going for a trip to the Alps.

Josh felt cold. Suddenly, he had an absurd urge to quit everything and return to Idealo, that seemed a safe oasis; such things couldn't happen in Idealo. However, he immediately ordered himself to focus again.

Maybe... just _maybe_ Alain's work involved things he couldn't brag about? And maybe, when he'd become sick, that break wasn't convenient to someone? God, what if he'd started to get some threats...? Maybe in Josh's absence, some people had visited here to make clear such state of things wouldn't be tolerated? But... No, someone would surely notice something - like Mrs Bonnet, who seemed to know everything about their building. Surely, she would have told him, so he doubt it was the case. But they might call and...

No, it sounded grotesque, he decided, stirring the soup. How could he ever imagined anything like that? He'd almost made a criminal of Alain, and only basing on his own ignorance as to where Alain worked and how he earned their bread. And basing on certain events from his past... While there was a substantial difference between being a delinquent and drinking in the back-streets, and being a villain. Did he really know Alain so little that he could suspect him of such things? That Alain, who had showed him his feelings and care, and tenderness, so many times? Could someone capable of touching Josh like that, hurt people? No, those things just didn't fit together. Besides, he remembered belatedly, Alain did have money - a few years ago he'd received the inheritance, so he could surely afford such expenses. On the other hand, Josh didn't know whether that money hadn't been spent already...

He nearly burned their dinner but managed to save most of it. Nevertheless, his latest reflection nagged him, so, when they were eating, he asked casually, "Could you tell me a bit about your work?"

Alain froze with a spoon halfway to his mouth and gave him an intent look, "Why do you ask about it?" he said somewhat cautiously.

Josh felt his heart would stop. "Because I know nothing about it," he replied nonchalantly, or so he hoped. "I'm interested in what you do..."

"Why did it start to interest you now?" Alain asked in that hostile voice.

Josh gulped. "I didn't want you to feel I inquire you about every little thing, but recently... I wonder whether you have no troubles," he responded. "Maybe... Maybe your work sometimes require more energy, and then it's... more idle?" Alain put aside the spoon yet said nothing. "You know, like my studies," Josh went on, realizing his effort was desperate, but with no intention to give up. "Don't you feel tired sometimes? Don't they demand too much from you? Is your boss okay?"

Alain averted his eyes. "I don't... I don't want to talk about it," he said and then got up, cleaning his plate, still half full.

"Then, _what_ it is that you want to talk about?" Josh called, turning in his chair and staring at Alain's back.

Alain didn't answer; he just stood in the kitchen, gaping at the cupboards.

"Alain, what's happening with you?!" Josh exploded, for he could no longer bear it. "What's happened to our... to our mutual trust? Why won't you tell me anything? Damn it, are you even listening to me?" he shouted, jumping to his feet when he suddenly felt he wasn't even here, not for Alain anyway. "What are you hiding from me? You know I'm here for you. I want to share everything with you, so why do you hide your matters from me?" he said in a lower voice; he wouldn't achieve anything shouting.

Alain finally turned to him, and his expression was somewhat harried. "I'm not... hiding anything from you," he replied. "I'm... tired," he added and tried to pass him, but Josh grabbed him by the hand.

"Tired? In the middle of a free day? Recently, you've been tired all the time and-" He paused and opened his eyes wide. Maybe Alain was ill? Seriously, gravely ill? Maybe that was that secret of his? Why Josh hadn't thought of it earlier? "We're going to see a doctor," he said firmly, but then Alain wrenched himself free from his clasp.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, adjusting his sleeve. "Leave me alone."

"Alain, are you..." He didn't finish, staring at the beloved face in growing terror.

"Everything is all right," Alain said, looking away again, and Josh thought he'd never heard such an obvious lie before.

"Alain, do you want to go back to Idealo?" he asked without a second thought and wasn't prepared for the reaction his words brought about.

Alain went pale and stared at him with both rage and fear, and then darted towards him and grabbed him by the arms. "What...! No...! Why did you think about something like that?!" he exclaimed, shaking him.

"Fine, we won't go back... But could you tell me why that suggestion terrified you so much?" he asked and was surprised at his own calmness, especially that inside he was... well, maybe not scared but shocked at that sudden change in Alain's behaviour.

Then, however, Alain apparently realized what he was doing, let him go and took two steps backwards, even paler. And then he turned around and went to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, while Josh was standing stupefied in the middle of the room. After a longer while, he rubbed his forehead and sat down by the table again.

Putting aside his own feelings, he'd at least learned that Alain's problem - he liked that word less with every minute - had something to do with Idealo. But what could it be? Some old business? Sins of the past? Maybe something had been following him...? Maybe he'd received some bad news...? Maybe someone was blackmailing him...? Money? A child?

No, he wouldn't reach any conclusion like this. He really needed to persuade Alain into confiding in him.

However, neither this nor the following day he managed to get out of Alain more than five words, mainly 'yes' and 'no'. For most of the time, Alain sat in the bedroom, leaving it only for the meals. Josh didn't rain him with more questions, supposing he wouldn't receive the answers, only worsen Alain's bad mood. However, he had a depressing impression that he was not going to move forward towards solving the situation.

* * *

On Easter Sunday, Josh's mood, as he woke up, was far from festive. To tell the truth, he didn't feel like celebrating anything, knowing it was all the same to Alain, but since he'd already prepared the meal, they had to eat it. Still, decorating the flat was out of question, so they simply sat down to the table, in their normal clothes, and ate the breakfast in silence. Alain clearly had no appetite, he only ate some salad and one egg; as for the roast lamb on his plate, he mostly picked at it. Josh thought the food tasted like ash, himself - and he realized he became apathetic.

Was this how their life would look like from now on? Without contact, without words, without... anything? In that case, was there any point in trying? In getting up in the morning and preparing a breakfast? In cleaning and doing laundry? In taking care of... anything? Sure, he knew that euphoria was always followed by daily life, but was _this_ daily life? He couldn't believe it.

He tried to remember some wisdom of Mr Ageais, that would show him way in this daze. 'Don't try to bear with difficulties alone. When the situation takes the better of you, seek for help. You're never alone.' The thing was he had no idea where to find help. He hardly knew anyone in Paris, and Idealo... No, he still couldn't imagine calling Erwin. Even if speaking with Erwin would raise his spirit, it would be only momentary, for Erwin couldn't do anything for him... couldn't really help him now. For a split second, he felt like calling Mr Ageais but then remembered it was Easter.

Ah, but he could go for a High Mass, like he'd planned. To Notre-Dame Cathedral. It would be a little change, for the longer he stayed at home, looking at Alain's close, impassive face, the worse he felt. He announced Alain he was going to church and shut the door behind him, without waiting for a reaction; he was sure he wouldn't be given any. He hoped the mass to console him a bit - after all, there was a reason why he'd visit church only during Easter: because it was something special - but, in the end, he couldn't focus on the liturgy at all. The songs were either different or sang on an altered melody, which frustrated him and deepened his dejection. Although the church was wonderfully decorated, with the priests and altar boys wearing festive robes, with carillon and sacring bells repeatedly announcing the merry tidings on victory of life over death, which only contributed to the solemn atmosphere in the crowd filling the place, Josh couldn't resist the impression he shouldn't really be here.

On his way home, he kept wondering _where_ was his place, actually. If he'd been asked about it only a week ago, he would have answered without hesitation, 'By Alain's side.' But was it really so, now? Alain no longer wanted him, treated him like an item in his surroundings and didn't pay any attention. And hadn't given a single reason why he was doing so. How long more Josh would bear with it? How long until Alain told him... to go away? It was an obvious thing Josh mattered nothing to him; otherwise, he would have made an attempt to explain things to him. Maybe it was better that Josh made the first step...?

He stood on the staircase for some quarter, trying to calm down. It was only when he was certain he would be able to hold the key in his hand that he unlocked the door and entered. He was nearly surprised upon not seeing Alain in the hall; it seemed that recently Alain had always waited for him when he'd returned home. But, ah, it probably also meant that the feelings Alain had once had for him, had died already. No, he was not going to cry now, even if his chest squeezed very painfully.

Soon, however, he realized Alain was occupied with something else when he heard some fragments of a conversation, apparently led by a phone. "When will you finally leave me alone?! ...Don't call me any more! I told you that many times already," Alain's voice grew louder, "Why do you care about it? You have no right to interfere with my life!," until he was shouting, "No, I will never agree to that! I won't let you...! Just stop persecuting me!"

Alain turned off the phone and threw it on the bed, then brushed the hair back with his both hands, round-shouldered. Josh forgot about his apathy when a sudden surge of affection made him want to walk close to Alain and embrace him. Then, however, Alain turned back and saw him, and whatever had been on his face just a moment ago, was gone now.

Josh stopped dead, and the feeling of hopelessness overcame him once more. Alain was looking at him like a stranger, with suspicious, and even hostility.

"Alain... Should I go away?" he asked involuntarily, although it was what he'd been thinking about for the last hour. He was surprised that there was hardly any emotion to his voice. Ah, maybe they, too, had died already, he thought with some pointless anger... But no, just a moment ago, he... had wanted nothing more than run up to Alain, take him in his arms and comfort. Help him, even if he had no idea with what.

He lowered his head and clenched his fists. Why had his happiness lasted so short and had to end before he'd managed to truly enjoy it? Why did he have such a bad luck in his life and could never keep what was important to him? Why was that all so terribly unfair?

"No," he heard Alain's voice, and even if that one word contained so unbelievably much emotions, among all reluctance, repulsion and hesitation, Josh felt hope welling up in him again.

He took one step towards Alain - maybe he wanted to take his hand or hug him, he didn't even know - but that moment a door bell rang. Alain twitched and drew back to disappear in the bedroom, and Josh, with a sudden feeling of failure, wondered whether what he'd heard a moment ago, was really the answer to his question.

He was in no mood to see people, yet he went to open. Standing on the doorstep was Francis, who came to say Easter greetings and brag about leaving soon to play in so-and-so church. Josh congratulated him sincerely, although he wasn't sure whether he managed to sound enthusiastic, for it'd taken him a moment to remember who that man was, to begin with. It could be that Francis noticed that, for he frowned and said, "You don't look well. Are you sick?"

Josh shook his head. "It's not me, it's A-" He stopped in mid-sentence. Why would he open to that man?

"Alain hasn't recovered yet? Aargh, sometimes it really drags on," Francis said sympathetically. "But he should be fine until the next Sunday...?"

Josh stared at him, confused. "Next Sunday...?"

"I'm talking about Georges Saphir's concert, of course," Francis replied, patting him on the shoulder. "You've received the tickets, haven't you? Lucky bastards..."

Josh gave him a silent look and felt as if he was seeing the man for the first time in his life. Only now he started to recover from the daze caused by his talk - talk? - with Alain, and he could think clearly again. Looking at the neighbour's jovial face, it occurred to him it was probably the reason why the musician came here: to ask about the tickets. For a moment, he tried to convince himself he couldn't suspect the man of such cunning, yet...

"Happy Easter, Francis. Good luck with your performance," he said, stepping back and shutting the door before the neighbour managed to say anything.

"Don't let him in," Alain's voice was to be heard in the hall.

Josh nodded automatically, with a distracted thought there was still something Alain and he agreed on. He too came to the conclusion that he didn't feel comfortable around Francis. The man seemed friendly and helpful, but Josh couldn't resist the impression that it was a façade covering the nasty inside. Once he'd considered himself to be an expert on human characters... Maybe he should trust his intuition again? Yes, it was better to be cautious so that he didn't get into troubles - especially now that he had plenty of them already and dealing with them would require quite a big effort. He remembered the phone call he'd overheard earlier... It was too short to draw any conclusions from it, but one thing was easy to understand nonetheless: Alain was in conflict with someone, and that person kept bothering him. Josh might only speculate what it could be about... and it was all he could do, for he knew that Alain wouldn't give him any answer if he inquired about that.

He thought the rest of the day passed in a slightly better atmosphere. However, it was the evening that surprised him the most, when he was already in the bed, with the lights off. Alain embraced him - which he hadn't done in a while - and pulled him closer, burying his face in Josh's hair. No other caress followed, but Josh didn't expect it either - he only derived comfort from that unusual gesture of Alain... from that moment... He didn't wish to ruin it with some inappropriate word, so he kept silent.

When he was falling asleep - much sooner than the previous evening - he heard Alain whisper, his cheek on Josh's temple, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

He thought he would never be able to leave him - and it wasn't a bitter realization. He was with Alain for better or for worse.

* * *

Easter Monday passed without any events, and on Tuesday Josh left for the university. Alain didn't move from the bed, but Josh made no comment on it; he only skipped off two last seminars to be back at home earlier. As he'd expected - and feared - he found Alain just as he'd left him a few hours ago. Well, Alain had got dressed and cleaned, but he was at home, and it looked he hadn't gone out.

"You didn't go to work?" Josh asked quite neutrally, hanging the jacket.

"They called and told me I didn't need to come," he heard the surprising answer.

"What?" Josh turned to him abruptly. "You don't need to-"

What could that mean? Well, at last that Alain hadn't been in the Mafia; Josh didn't believe the criminal syndicate to 'let' its members go just like that. It was a relief, for he'd been tormented with that thought unconsciously, especially after that phone call that sounded like an attempt at blackmailing or intimidating. Still...

"But you're no longer on a sick-leave...?" he asked, frowning.

"They said I had been absent for a whole month and I didn't need to come to work," Alain answered in that same indifferent voice.

Josh stopped in the middle of the living-room. "You mean... They fired you?" Alain shrugged, which probably meant confirmation. "But they couldn't do it!" Josh felt indignant. "How can they fire someone who's been on a sick-leave? It's against the law! I think..."

"An employer can do anything," Alain replied impassively. "I didn't want to return there myself."

"I think you should-" Josh stopped in a midstream and let his arms fall, staring at Alain, who'd made him speechless with his last remark.

Alain was really looking like someone who cared little about being fired: he was sitting on the couch and gaping in the corner. Josh found it impossible to persuade him into doing something about it.

"What now?" he asked, sitting in the armchair.

Alain shrugged again.

"Are you going to find yourself a new job?" Josh didn't let him be.

"I didn't think of it," came the reply, and Alain's voice clearly indicated it was the case indeed.

"But..." Josh started and didn't finish.

What could he say? What right did he have to decide for Alain? To suggest things him and tell him what he should do? None. If Alain didn't want to go to work, that was his own business.

But, in that case, what about them? What about their flat? Who would pay the rent? The food? Should they rely on Alain's money, just like the last summer in Idealo? No, he couldn't accept that, especially that he didn't know how much was left of it. Or, maybe Alain made him understand this way that he no longer intended to provide for their life _together_... and it was a very unpleasant thought.

"Then, it is I who should start working?" he said, hoping to provoke some reaction, but Alain merely raised his brows. "Well, we need money for living."

"Don't you worry about it," Alain replied, apparently trying to reassure him, but he created quite the opposite effect.

"How can I not worry about it?!" Josh nearly yelled. "I'm not some fucking butterfly that need only pollen for food and a leaf to hide under during the rain!"

Alain straightened his back on the couch and focused his eyes on him. "Butterfly...?"

"Or a spider catching flies in his net, all the same." He suppressed a sudden urge to shake Alain and force him to think reasonably. "Alain, do you even know what's going on? Are you aware of the world around you? Sometimes I'm under the impression you live on a desert island and the sea is your only companion. What's happening to you?"

Alain twitched. "Nothing is happening," he said in a repulsive voice and got up, and Josh held back a sigh of frustration.

They'd managed to exchanged a few _sentences_ , but it was already over.

* * *

Josh felt bad both at home and at the university. He had a hard time at home - with Alain, who still kept silent and did nothing - so it was with some relief that he left for classes in the morning. At school, however, he couldn't focus, he was constantly anxious and irritated, thinking about Alain and wanting to go back as soon as possible. His fellow students started to look at him as some freak - actually, they had been doing so for a longer while, now that he thought about it. Well, he had given them a reason, isolating himself from the group and keeping away. Someone like this would always be imagined redonkulous things about. To tell the truth, he didn't give a damn about it, for he had more serious problems - still, it wasn't nice to spend a few hours daily with people who stared at him strangely and said nothing, only whispered among themselves.

Nevertheless, despite this paradox of feeling bad regardless of his location, Josh couldn't resist the impression that it was still slightly better now than during Easter. Maybe he had a kind of... got used to Alain's peculiar stare? Maybe he'd somehow accepted the change...? Maybe they would be able to live through their lives, after all - in a different manner Josh had expected, but still together? It was surely not the worst thing that might have happened to him...

Only, for some reason, whenever he reached such conclusion, it seemed to him his insides had vanished and there was only freezing emptiness left. Something would squeeze his throat and make him unable to breath - and it took a longer while until he got hold of himself.

It was Friday afternoon. He was returning home, deep in that kind of thoughts, when someone friendly patted him on the shoulder. "Salut!" Francis called cheerfully.

Josh fixed his gaze on him, wondering whether the neighbour was coming in or out. Apparently, it was the former, for the man started to climb the stairs along him. Josh realized he didn't feel good in his company, even less in conversation; the musician, however, didn't seem like receiving the subliminal stimuli.

"How's Alain doing? Recovered already?" he asked merrily.

"Ah... Actually..." Josh didn't want to answer, so he remained silent.

"Cause you see, I wondered..." Francis went on, undeterred by Josh's comment... or, rather, its lack, "if it's not time for something new."

Josh stopped dead in his track and looked at the musician, frowning. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Francis, standing a few steps higher, leaned towards him... and unexpectedly stroke him on the cheek. Josh went pale. "Well, I think you do perfectly well," the musician said with a smile.

Josh averted his eyes and passed him, hoping to nip the man's possible aims at the bud. Unfortunately, it appeared he'd only fuelled them, for Francis grabbed him by the hand and turned towards himself. "What do you have from that... relationship?" he hissed. "You don't look happy to me, not at all..."

"And what would I have from the relationship with you?" Josh threw back coldly, although inside he was boiling, and looked him in the eye. "What do you know about me?" he asked, wrenching himself free.

"Why, I could give you a lot... in exchange for those tickets for Saphir's concert."

Josh stared at him in silence, and the emotions raging inside him slowly calmed down. He still hoped that some of the neighbours would appear on the staircase... maybe dear Mrs Bonnet... or the insufferable Pierre Ronald... although he became convinced that he would manage himself.

"Then, actually, am I going to be the one giving or being given? Because, forgive me, I still can't understand what I would gain," he said in the same cold voice.

Francis obviously felt confused, but he still didn't seem to give up. "But the likes of you need only one thing," he replied in some dirty tone. "And I can see it's a longer while since you felt a man ins-" He didn't finish, for Josh slapped him in the face.

If wasn't a powerful blow - Josh realized his physical strength better than anyone - but it'd been dealt to sober that man, in the first place. The musician was so surprised, he didn't know how to react; the next moment, however, dangerous sparks flashed in his eyes.

"If you touch me, I'll scream," Josh warned him, aware it was a cheap threat yet it could work. "I think you want to stay in this house...? I've been living here longer and have very good relationships with the neighbours," he stretched the truth a bit, but Francis didn't need to know that, "so it's pretty much obvious who would flunk out of here first."

The musician pulled back the hands he'd been already moving towards him, and the repulsive expression appeared on his face. He spat at Josh's feet. "Son of a bitch... Fucking queer...!"

Josh didn't even blink. "Just think what it makes of you," he said impassively. "Besides... Would you do it?" he asked doubtfully, trying to look the musician in the eye. "Would you really do it? How is that, Mr Vidal?" Francis kept staring down. "Because it seems to me you're some thousand years too early to... shag me... So, you had better play those games with someone else, only watch out not to burn yourself."

He didn't know what had made him say that, but Francis turned red. "I wouldn't touch you even with a stick," he retorted with disgust.

"That's what I thought," Josh replied amicably and turned to go up.

"But I still think you'd be better off with me than..." Francis shook off the stupor and ran to catch up to him, although he no longer tried to touch him.

Josh looked at him in disbelief, some part of his mind coming to the conclusion that, had it been not for the general situation, this scene would be quite amusing. "What do you want from me?" he called, knowing well he should just finish this talk and leave. "I bet you don't even know it yourself, do you?" he added with irritation.

"I don't," Francis admitted with a sincerity that must have surprised himself. At least, he hadn't said directly he wanted the tickets. "I mean..."

"Then, maybe you should first think about it..." Josh suggested. "Or not," he corrected at once. "Even if you thought for eternity, you can't hope for _that_ kind of relationship with me," he almost felt sick upon saying that. "I have Alain," he added somewhat awkwardly.

"Right, that Alain..." Francis seemed to have remembered something. "What do you need him for? He doesn't do anything, he only stays home, doesn't go to work... You can tell right away there's something wrong-"

"Why would you care?!" Josh stopped dead and turned to the musician. He didn't give a damn about what others could think about him, but whenever they tried to insult Alain in his presence, he wouldn't stand it. "You're not spying on us, are you?!" he threw in spite. "Get lost. Find yourself a girlfriend... or a boyfriend, whatever," he said, waving his hand. "Leave other people alone! And don't you dare to intrude upon me, you better remember that!" He wagged his finger at the man. "I never want to see you again."

He jumped the last few steps and achieved the fourth floor. He took the key and somehow managed to put it into the lock. Francis was still standing on the landing, as if he was musing over something, and then raised his gaze upon Josh, a very angry gaze. "You're going to regret that...! You're going to come to me yourself! If anything, I am _normal!_ "

Josh leaned out of the doorway to gave him a meaningful look and shake his head in disbelief before entering the flat. Honestly, could a man fall even more?

He rested his back against the door and tried to calm down. Only now the tension he must have felt all the time, got to him. His hands were shaking, and his heart was pounding in his chest. Well, the latter might as well result from running up the stairs, ha ha... In any case, he shouldn't show himself to Alain like this because...

He swallowed the bitter feeling. Alain wouldn't care. He would surely not even notice. Though, at least, he could have heard something, for Francis and Josh had been shouting pretty loud at the end... Then, however, Alain emerged from the bathroom, saying nothing; he only greeted Josh with a nod. Josh held back a sigh and took of his shoes, then silently went to the kitchen.

There was no point in talking about that. Not in the slightest.

* * *

 _Millenium - "I Would Like To Say Something"  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**  
 _ **(if you are near to the dark)**_

* * *

On Sunday, they were to go to the concert. It started at seven p.m. and was held not so far from their place, so they had enough time to get prepared - although in Alain's case preparation was to be seen mostly in nervousness and reluctance he showed whenever Josh mentioned their evening plans. However, Josh was determined to meet with Georges and Robert; he hoped - maybe in vain - that those two would do something, _anything_ , with Alain, return him to his former self somehow... Apart from that, the last days, actually weeks already, had been a catastrophe in most respects, and this concert was a sole thing he looked forward to. It seemed to him a ray of light in his gloomy life, filled with sorrow and hopelessness. They were going to be there even if he had to drag Alain along...

Well, that, of course, wasn't possible, he thought when trying on his Sunday best and realizing he'd lost some weight again. In any case, he would do anything to make Alain come with him. He had stopped threatening to go with Francis - he felt nauseated at the very thought - but he clearly made to understand that refusal was not an option. Sure, what could he do if Alain said he wasn't coming? Nothing. Yet, it seemed to him that their relation had improved _a bit_ this week and that Alain was calmer - but it might as well be just his wishful thinking. Either way, he himself stopped feeling he was living under one roof with a person who hated him - only with someone that needed to be taken care of. It wasn't a perfect state of things, but at least better than continuous self-pitying and crying over Alain no longer wanting him.

Especially that Alain could still show him some tenderness, like that evening on Easter Sunday. Sometimes he would lift one hand to brush Josh's hair from his forehead and look him into the eyes. Sometimes, in the bed, he would search for Josh's hand and then squeeze it for a longer while. Sometimes he would only stare at Josh, his gaze filled with so many emotions that Josh's heart clenched. How he wanted to help him... ease his pain... but he couldn't no anything except being with him, which felt terribly little.

The concert took place in the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where they had less than half an hour by the metro. Josh wanted to be early enough, but Alain dawdled until the very end, of course. Josh tried not to shuffle his feet nor tap his fingers against the door-frame, observing him. Finally, they managed to leave, although Alain seemed as if something physically held him at home and didn't want to let him go. Josh remembered it was the first time in the whole month that Alain left home. Then, maybe he shouldn't be too hard on him? After such a long period everyone would feel uneasy when showing himself to people again...

But, well, whose fault was that? asked that defiant part of him. How many times had Josh tried to drag him out for a walk once Alain had recovered? Nearly every day. And Alain had always refused. No, there was nothing Josh should feel guilty about, at least in this respect.

Ah, it didn't matter. He should be happy that Alain was by his side now. That they finally went out to spend an evening together. It was easy to believe that it would be all right from now on, and that thought filled his chest with warmth that hadn't been there for a longer while. Such a bliss it was, that he felt like resting his head against Alain's shoulder when they were already sitting in the metro... Especially that there were quite few passengers in the car, and besides, who would care about two young men on Sunday evening?

However, when Josh glanced at him, it became clear that Alain's mood was far from idyllic. Alain obviously felt pretty bad during that journey; he was tense, kept looking around nervously and nearly jumped whenever someone got up from his seat. Before they reached their destination, Josh had already reached the conclusion that Alain had probably developed... what was it called... _a social phobia_. Josh had learned that one could get it when staying home for too long. Maybe that was the reason why Alain had been acting that way? Still, it didn't explain why he'd turned his back at Josh... Unless he felt ashamed of such a weakness... or feared that Josh would urge him to go out and associate with people... Which Josh planned to do indeed, knowing that it should be the best cure; such anxiety, even fear, would diminish as he started to get used to the situation producing it... In any case, it was with a warmer feeling that he squeezed Alain's hand on the third station already, and they stayed like that for the rest of the ride. He didn't knew whether it helped much, but at least Alain didn't move away, only squeezed back Josh's hand, so maybe he still could derive some comfort from physical contact. It was a good sign.

They arrived at the first bell and had no time to admire the wonderful interior of the theatre, only went to their seats right away. Josh didn't let Alain's hand from his grasp, not for a moment; in this crowd, hardly anyone could see it - and even if one did, so what? They had very good places - but only from a spectator's point of view: in the middle of the parquet circle, not so far from the stage. What to do when Alain would prefer some remote corner? But they could do nothing about it now... Well, surely they would find someone from the back happy to swap with them, but it was impossible to go there and ask now, especially that the second bell was to be heard. Josh squeezed Alain's hand tighter and pulled along, excusing themselves to people already seated in their row.

Before the lights went out, he managed to read in the programme that Georges would perform right at the beginning; he were to give two concerts - one solo and the other with a string quartet. The whole show was going to last over three hours, with two intervals. Josh had hoped to talk with Georges and Robert during one of them; however, seeing that enormous crowd filling the audience, he doubted to have such possibility, and his spirit fell. Well, he could have expected this when Francis had said that the tickets had sold very quickly... But he shouldn't lose hope. Georges and Robert had written they wanted to meet with him... with them during this concert, so they would probably find him somehow, even in this crowd. Josh wondered whether people really came here for Georges solely... He wasn't familiar with any other name on the list of performers, so he had no idea whether they were celebrities or, rather, rising stars. However, the public seemed connoisseur to him, so he was probably going to witness a good performance anyway.

Josh looked around discreetly, but there was no-one he knew in sight, not that he moved in the artistic circles of Paris... To tell the truth, he felt slightly discouraged by the fact he was sitting here, surrounded by ladies in beautiful dresses and gentlemen in tail coats who prepared themselves for a great show and a spiritual feast. He'd probably forgot how it was to be among people himself... He glanced at Alain, who was making the impression of a man wishing to become invisible or, at least, merge in one with his seat... Maybe... Maybe Josh should take him to some specialist? Alain would surely benefit from a therapy. He couldn't possibly intend to never leave home again, for the rest of his life? Yes, they would talk about it... although Josh was already preparing himself for a hard battle. To persuade Alain to do something he didn't want himself was as easy as making a cat jump down from a top of a tree. Well, he would think about it later; for now, he was satisfied with the diagnosis he'd made, although, at the same time, he reproached himself for not having thought about it earlier.

The third bell rang, and the lamps were slowly dimmed, making everyone focus their eyes on the stage with a single shaft of light. The host of the event emerged, greeting the present ones and saying several words on the character of this concert. Later, he would also introduce the performers, just like he did with Georges now. It wasn't a long speech - just a few sentences about the young pianist's quite short yet very promising career, as well as praises of his musical talent - but Josh noticed how the atmosphere in the theatre changed. Yes, undoubtedly quite a lot of people had come here to see and hear that twenty-year-old genius. When the host asked Georges onstage, many leaned forward, as if it could help them see him better. The host withdrew behind the wings, and Georges stood in the middle and bowed deeply to the audience before sitting down by the piano. The light moved softly with him, flickering on his fair hair and the polished lid of the instrument. Josh realized he was holding his breath.

And then the delicate tones were to be heard, immediately bewitching him along with all people in the theatre. Josh had no idea what piece it was - he'd already forgot what the host had said - but it didn't matter, for the music was wonderful, and Georges was playing it magnificently. At first soft and calm, sweet and soothing, it slowly gained pace and became stronger, got higher and reached deeper in the souls, and moved. Josh noticed he was squeezing Alain's hand even tighter; maybe he was afraid to fly away to some unknown land that melody seemed to take him to. For a moment, he managed to put into oblivion his worries and troubles, and to completely sink in that delighting, stunning cascade of sounds, each of them having its own colour and telling its own story.

He didn't know how it was for the others, but he was so engrossed by the music he stopped paying attention to anything else. Even the pianist who was bringing those beautiful tones into being, receded into the background, although Josh could still see his slender frame, expressing the very dynamism of the composition. It lasted some quarter, at least, before he got out of the spell enough to finally have a good look at Georges. And he was amazed seeing that the fair-haired artist was playing that incredible concert with a smile.

Josh blinked, involuntarily comparing that unexpected view with his memory of Georges, when he'd seen him playing the piano for the last time... Where was that anxious boy, who - not so long ago - would jump up at the faintest stimulus and could become completely distracted by a single thought or emotion? There was no trace of him; this Georges here was playing with ease and passion, trusting his skills and enjoying his act. He was one with the music he performed, and he more like felt the melody than was reproducing it. Actually, he was creating it anew, in his own way, only for himself - and those two thousand people listening to him now. Although Josh couldn't see it, he imagined those green eyes shining with pride and happiness, and many other positive emotions, but there was no conceit nor arrogance among them. Georges was playing to please - others and himself - not to be given an applause; Josh knew that much.

The applause was, of course, inevitable. When the first piece of music ended - gently, calmly, like the sun after a thunderstorm - and the pianist took his hand off the keyboard, the theatre filled with clapping and ovation. Josh clapped, too, delighted and shaken, even though he realized clapping was so little to express gratitude for such a performance... In the corner of his eye, he could see that a lot of women and some men furtively wiped their tears, which didn't amaze him, for Georges' play was overflowing with so many emotions it was impossible to grasp them. Georges brushed the golden locks from his forehead, got up and bowed to the audience again, arousing even greater applause. He didn't, however, let himself bask in it, only invited onstage the musicians he was to play with in the latter part. The host appeared, too, introducing the string quartet from the Paris conservatory and announcing the next opus, its name completely unknown to Josh. Yet, he decided he shouldn't be bothered by his own ignorance, only focus on the music, for it was what he'd come for.

The musicians took their places and began to tune their instruments. Georges sat by the piano again and browsed the notes to the right page. He seemed relaxed yet respectful towards the fellow artists. On their part, they appeared slightly nervous, but it faded away during the preparation they did and initial bars. When the quintet started to play, Josh was surprised how differently the piano sounded when accompanied by other instruments, here strings: it seemed to play quite another role, even though the music was still enrapturing. The sounds Georges' fingers were making, splendidly matched the wistful sounds of the violins and deeper ones of the cello and the viola, sometimes emphasizing them and sometimes entwining with them; they were telling the same story from another point of view and nearly flirting with each other. The atmosphere of the music also kept changing - one time it was cheerful and careless, making one think of white clouds in the blue sky on a bright day, then it would become darker and disquieting, and strike some strings in human soul, usually hidden deeply.

Having been listening to that harmony for a few minutes, Josh was marvelling at the skills of all the artists already and would no longer think the Parisian students were inferior to Georges; on the contrary, he was greatly impressed by what they were doing with their instruments. Well, he guessed, they must have been the best of the best at their school, and it was possible they were as talented as Georges. At first, Josh had been astonished that Georges would perform with the students, and only know he remembered that the young pianist was a student himself, even if he'd been declared the greatest music prodigy of his generation. He supposed that Georges, even though he seemed a perfect artist in Josh's eyes, had still a long way to go, as well as great perspectives of development.

At the same time, he wondered how much Robert's presence mattered in respect to his career... Probably a lot; after all, it was thanks to Robert that Georges had gone out of his shell and was now able to bestow on others what was inside him and what he couldn't acknowledge before, hadn't realized before. When Josh recalled Georges from high school - before Georges had left from Saint Grollo - he saw the delicate, inhibited boy who couldn't relate to people in a normal way and fixed on never hurting anyone and be perfect in everything. His playing, although undoubtedly stunning already then, had lacked spontaneity, lacked some openness... it had been only reproducing the melody without any attempt to give it his own interpretation. Only after meeting Robert and receiving his help, he'd managed to break the barriers and discover his true self, break free from the shackles he'd put upon himself many years earlier... so long ago that later he couldn't even notice them, for they'd turned into something as natural as breathing to him. And then his music had become free, too, while the effects of that could be seen now. Georges - smiling, at ease, and happy - playing for two thousand people who admired him to no avail... with another thousands willing to do absolutely anything for him. And Josh didn't feel surprised, for in his eyes Georges was... had become a completely entrancing being. If Robert Jade couldn't be credited with that, then Josh didn't know who could.

He would keep musing over Georges Saphir's case - never stopping to delight at the splendid playing of the musicians, currently oscillating around dark and dramatic themes again - if not for a convulsive grip that Alain's fingers gave him. He took his eyes off the stage to look at Alain. He'd thought that sitting in the dark hall, being almost invisible to others, would calm him, but it seemed the opposite had happened. Alain was even paler, and his eyes were wide. He looked like a person deeply horrified, while there was nothing to be scared of here...? He jerked, as if was going to get up, yet he remained seated. He must have realized Josh was staring at him, for he whispered, "We must... I must leave here...!"

Josh opened his mouth... and closed it again. Leave...? But...? Now?

Alain's all muscles tensed, and Josh mechanically pressed his hand onto the armrest, trying to stop him. There was no reason to leave...! There was no reason to be scared here...! He wanted to say that... explain that... but now... he _couldn't_. It was enough that the woman seated next to him already hissed to silence them.

What to do?

They couldn't just leave in the middle of the concert! The performance would end soon, followed by an interval, surely Alain could wait a few minutes...? But one glance at Alain's face told him he was asking too much. Alain's breath was quick and shallow, and he was looking around with somewhat hounded eyes. It was no telling what he would do... No, they had better leave now, before any scandal happened... Damn it, people sometimes became sick during a show and had to leave, right? The world would not collapse; this theatre wouldn't collapse either.

Josh made his decision and stood up. Alain only waited for that; he jumped to his feet and started to move along the row. Fortunately, he didn't make much noise; Josh spared himself any apologies, too, in order not to create even greater ruckus, he only walked with his head down, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

In the empty hall, they ran across an usher, who glowered at them. "My friend started to feel unwell," Josh explained, feeling a blush creeping onto his face. "And he had to get out."

The man's stern expression - matching his uniform perfectly - softened a bit. "You'll find a water automate there," he said not very menacingly, pointing at the side part of the vestibule.

Josh thanked him and turned to look at Alain... who was already half-way to the front door. "Alain...!" he called in a strangled whisper. When Alain didn't react, he ran to him, trying to make as little noise as possible on the marble floor.

He caught up to him right by the exit and grabbed by one arm, trying to turn him towards himself. "Alain... Where are you going?!"

Alain averted his eyes but didn't try to break free. "Home, of course."

"But..." Josh felt he couldn't grasp that. "We've come here to the concert. And to meet with Georges and Robert...! We can't..." Then he remembered Alain hadn't wanted to come here at all. What should he say? How to persuade him to stay? "I'm sure... I'm sure you'll feel better any moment now. Please, wait a bit...!"

But Alain freed his slave with one wrench and turned away from him again. "I'm going home," he repeated as if he hadn't heard him.

Josh let his arms fall and asked himself what he could do now. Still, he knew the answers – the options - were few: he could do nothing to stop Alain. Sure, he could stay himself... He wanted to see Georges and Robert so much, but...

But Alain had a priority, damn it. There would be another occasion to meet with the friend. They would surely understand Josh had no choice.

He nodded, suppressing a sigh. "Then, let's go," he said and moved towards the door Alain was already opening.

On their way home, Alain was very restless and obviously desired to be back in his own flat again as soon as possible. In the metro, he didn't want to sit down, only stood in the end of the car and kept staring at everyone around distrustfully. He said nothing and didn't care at all about Josh's attempt at having a conversation. When they arrived at their station, he took Josh's by the hand and pulled towards their house. It was getting dark, which affected their street pretty much since there were barely any lamps there, and the house stood close enough to create a deep shadow. Alain would look back all the time, but the worst happened when they finally reached their tenement: he nearly panicked when he couldn't switch the lights on. Josh wondered whether that, too, belonged to social phobia, but couldn't really remember. He started to have a headache, and thinking about study and learned material was the last thing he wanted to do...

"A blackout," he offered the most reasonable explanation. "Or the fuses have blown."

For a moment, Alain stood there, hesitating and making the impression that the dark staircase - the window in the roof was the only source of outside light, so the stairs used to be pretty shadowed in the evening - seemed more dangerous than the street. Apparently, he didn't accept Josh's version... or had suddenly developed fear of the dark as well, everything was possible, Josh thought irritated. What upset him the most was the fact he couldn't understand any of that... Alain was still not moving, he only breathed heavily, but then finally he came off the wall and ran up the stairs, rushing towards their flat. Josh followed. He felt like having a long bath; maybe it would calm him down enough so that he could relate to Alain's indeterminate problem with understanding... for now he was getting more and more annoyed by his behaviour. If not for Alain, he would have been at the concert, enjoying the prospect of meeting with friends... Yes, a hot bath, he thought, blindly climbing up the stairs he already knew by heart.

On the second floor, however, Alain scared him quite a lot, stopping dead and grasping his arm. "Is anything following us?" he whispered. "I think I heard someone..."

Josh felt a shiver running down his spine - apparently, it didn't take much for Alain's mood to infect him - but he only replied calmly, "There's no-one here but us. I'm sure of that."

The staircase was silent; only Alain's quick and shallow breathing could be heard, and then a cat's meow as well. Alain stood in the darkness - Josh could barely see him and more like _sensed_ his presence - and then he resumed walking, no longer making any stops until they reached their floor. He opened the door and disappeared inside and, when Josh slid behind him, quickly drew both locks.

The lights didn't work here either - there must have been a power cut in the building - but it was slightly lighter here thanks to the windows, at least in the living-room... Yet, the two of them were still standing in the hall, Alain leaning against the door and listening. Josh wondered whether he should say something - and _what_ exactly - when Alain gave him a sign to be silent. Then, trying to make no noise at all, he moved inside the flat and waved at Josh to come as well. Josh took off his shoes and approached him, somewhat confused, suddenly realizing his heart was pounding in his chest. How strange...

"I'm sure someone followed us..." Alain whispered, staring at the entrance again. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were standing behind the door. And listening."

Josh shook his head. "There was no-one there," he replied, for some reason also whispering. "There was..." But how could he know? It was pitch dark in the staircase. If... If someone had really been standing there, say, above their floor, they wouldn't have seen him. He shivered again and couldn't quite explain that, which made him feel uneasy. "I'm going to lit the candles," he muttered, trying to hide his confusion, and headed for the kitchen.

Alain made a stifled noise - maybe an objection, maybe an anger - and then moved closer to the window. Searching the candles in the cupboard, Josh saw him in the corner of his eye, standing by the frame and looking outside, before very carefully drawing the curtains. Josh peeked out at the yard and saw that the power failure must have affected the whole quarter, for the windows of other houses were dark, too. He was overwhelmed by an unreal feeling: not exactly fear, more like subconscious anxiety that something was going to happen any moment. He felt a candle with his trembling fingers and lit it, putting on the saucer and enjoying its flare. With this primitive yet effective source of light, he returned to Alain, who got up from the chair and went straight to the bedroom, giving him a suggestive look.

It took Josh a moment to make a decision and follow him. Alain obviously desired his company... and Josh himself started to realize he shouldn't leave him alone. His anger was already fading... How could he feel angry with Alain... especially now? Especially on such evening...

He blinked. _Such_ evening? A blackout meant nothing; it had happened a few times before... Still, he had to admit the atmosphere tonight was unusual. He turned to give the front door a doubtful look. If someone was there, could they see the light? an unexpected thought occurred to him, as well as an urge to obscure the candle from a possible observer.

He shook his head and entered the bedroom. Alain closed the door right away, then sat down on the bed and looked at him expectantly. Josh put the candle on the chest of drawers and took the place opposite him, watching the play of light and shadow on that beloved face, that sometimes seemed so distant...

"We're safe here," Alain said in a low voice, but no longer a whisper; apparently, he really felt more secure here.

"From whom?" Josh asked, awaiting no sensible answer.

Alain, however, surprised him, looking at him with terrible affection and reaching to touch his face. Josh gave in to the caress, closing his eyes and forgetting the last weeks altogether. He wished this blissful moment lasted for ever, but then Alain's voice - faltering, distrustful yet despairingly yearning for assurance - broke it, "I can trust you... right?"

Josh's eyelids snapped up, and his heart leapt. Could it be... that he finally was about to hear about Alain's troubles? About what cast a shadow on their relationship for so many days... weeks...? He dismissed the anxiety coming from the fact Alain asked such things, in the first place... He gazed at him and nodded; then he grabbed that hand, still touching his cheek, and squeezed it, trying those two gestures - as well as his following words - to be as convincing as possible, "You can. Of course you can."

Alain looked nervously around the room.

"We're safe here," Josh repeated Alain's own statement, even if he didn't really understand it, and squeezed his fingers again.

Alain focused his eyes on him and nodded briefly before saying, "I won't let you to be hurt."

Josh suppressed a sigh, remembering that Alain had once said it already... But until now it had never occurred to Josh that he could be in some danger. Judging from Alain's behaviour - that strange anxiety, almost fear, he'd been displaying today, and that reluctance to leave the flat - maybe there was some threat? He hadn't thought about it before; why was it only tonight that he was able to acknowledge such a possibility...? His heart started to beat faster.

"They almost got us today," Alain's pressing voice broke his reverie. "We shouldn't have gone out."

Involuntarily, Josh nodded... before realizing what he was doing. "Who almost got us? Alain, what are you talking about?"

Alain clasped his hand tighter... and didn't avert his eyes, although before - a moment ago, yesterday, the last week - he would have surely done so. Maybe he finally understood he really could trust Josh? It hurt - and was calming at the same time.

"I think... No, I'm sure of that," he replied in a low voice, emphasizing every word. "Someone... Some people want to hurt us."

Josh felt an unpleasant sensation moving down his back, not the first one this evening. Still, it was one thing to suspect something, and it was quite another to hear it said aloud. "Who...?" he asked in a whisper, leaning towards Alain. "Who wants to hurt us?"

Alain took his other hand and squeezed it for a moment, never breaking the eye contact. "You know I have some money, don't you?" he said quietly. "That inheritance from my father," he added with some bitterness.

Josh nodded. Of course he knew. He had no idea how big it was, but he suspected that a substantial... At least, it _had been_ substantial when Alain had got it, judging from the fact that afterwards he'd lived like a lord without as much as lifting his finger to do some work. "Is that... matter, that danger... Does it have something to do with that inheritance?" he guessed.

Alain nodded briefly. "Recently... I've learned that other... other people want that money."

Josh blinked. "But it had been already arranged long ago...?" he suggested, pulling both legs on the bed to sit more comfortably.

Now Alain shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he answered. "They try to have the court decision revoked... And they will do everything to get it."

Josh remained silent, thinking fervently and trying to drive away the unpleasant feeling at his stomach. It appeared big money was in question... "They will do what, Alain?"

"Anything," Alain whispered, white as a sheet. For a moment, he looked like wanting to get up... but he only squeezed Josh's hands tighter. "They phoned me, many times... threatened... They want me to give that money back, otherwise..."

His voice broke off again, and Alain seemed to be gathering his thoughts, just like Josh, who tried to digest those revelations and find some solution. Himself, he'd never been greedy for material wealth, yet he supposed it wasn't so in every case. Yes, he imagined money could make some people... kill... He felt faint. "Can you not... inform the police about that?" he offered.

Alain twitched. "No, we can't involve the police," he said decisively and then looked away. "Once... some things from my past... If the police learned about them... It could end... badly."

Josh's heart leapt in his heart, but he overcame that sudden anxiety. "But... you were never proven guilty," he blurted, although it seemed to him he didn't really know what he was saying. "Right?" he asked somewhat hysterically.

Alain, still looking to the side, nodded to agree. Josh took a deep breath and asked himself what exactly he was doing. He was sitting here and completely, _utterly_ , groundlessly accusing Alain of some crimes - only because Alain had once been a delinquent.

He blinked. Not so long, he'd already gone through it... and it had led to nothing. For there was nothing. Alain Corail _was_ a decent man, even if now he seemed to doubt it himself.

"Besides... I don't even know their names, they never introduced themselves..." Alain's sceptical voice interrupted the train of his thoughts.

"What?!" Josh nearly exclaimed; then he looked around abashed and added in a lower voice, "Some people call and threat you, and you don't even know who they are?"

"They said they were my father's... my late father's, whom I didn't even know, relatives," Alain said bitterly. "Siblings. Or cousins. And that the inheritance belongs lawfully to them and their children."

"But..." What Josh could say? He hardly knew anything about the law. "But can they really do that? Question the court decision?" he asked with some helplessness.

Alain shrugged; apparently, he didn't have the idea either. "I don't know... But they are going to try, with every possible mean." His face twisted. "That's what they said. That I'm not... that I am... that according to the law... I couldn't have got this inheritance and can't administer it. They can't prove that I'm not that man's son, for my mother presented my birth certificate, so they want to... provide some _ground_ for the court to revoke the decision."

Josh had to admit he didn't understand any of that. He felt confused; it was hard to make any conclusions... but he should. He had to think. He had to help Alain. Alain trusted him, confided in him, needed his help... He recalled what Alain had just said. Ground... Prove that Alain couldn't administer... It sounded like... Could it be that Alain was talking about...

"Like... you have no capacity?" That's what it was called. "Do you mean this?"

Alain nodded.

"What a rubbish! How do they want to prove something like that?" Josh couldn't comprehend it. No. It would never occur to him to think something like that about Alain. "It's some idiocy. It relates to... law incompetence? To people mentally ill or impaired...?" That's what it seemed to him. How could anyone assume that, in case of Alain? It was an absurd. He was angry at the very thought. "They have absolutely no rationale, don't worry about that!" he called firmly.

Alain averted his eyes again and loosened his grip, but Josh quickly caught his hands. "Alain...?"

Alain was still looking away; speaking suddenly become difficult to him. Josh waited patiently, trying to contain in his gaze whole love he had for that man. The bed-cover was getting warm from the heat of their bodies. The clock on the chest of drawers was counting the seconds and minutes; the candle was sizzling. Water was swooshing in a pipe behind the wall; apart from that, it was very quiet. The room seemed the only existing place in the whole universe. Yes, he thought, if there had been no-one else but the two of them in the world, they wouldn't have such problems...

Finally, Alain cast him an anguished look. "They think that our... That we... That us being together proves my... abnormality. And that they can refer to that in the court."

Josh straightened up. He felt like he'd been hit in the face. "What...?"

He was so agitated he couldn't gather his thoughts for a moment. Then... They wanted to use... their relationship against Alain? What a low thing to do...! How could they act like that? It was so mean, so... primitive. What did they care who Alain was with? No, he simply couldn't believe that.

Then, however, he thought that apparently everything was allowed when it was money at stake. He felt sick. He imagined Alain being asked in the court whether it was true he slept with a man... exposed to public... well, maybe not public condemnation, but criticism, contempt... for the very fact he was not like most. That they passed a sentence on him... a decision that he was _abnormal_... and deprived him of his rights...

He shook his head. No, such things might have happened in the past, but no longer. Not in the 20th century in the civilized country. There was no discrimination against sexual minorities - at least, not in law, for it could look differently on the street, sure... He didn't believe that the court considered that as an argument. No, definitely not. He was mad at himself for even assuming it. He should pull himself together and think clearly.

But that Alain worried about that...? He raised his gaze upon the man he would give his life for. Did Alain feel ashamed of... of what they were doing? Ashamed that they were together? Maybe he'd rather be with someone else now... with someone who wouldn't expose him to any suspicion of... _abnormality?_

No, he decided right away. He trusted Alain - although, of course, he didn't want to cause him trouble. On impulse, he reached and touched Alain's chin, making Alain look him in the eye. He smiled and hoped it was a comforting smile.

"No judge is going to make a decision basing on that," he said with a full conviction. "It's nothing you should worry about. Besides..." he paused when another thing occurred to him. "Besides, how could they know about _us?_ You surely haven't told them...?"

Alain squinted and shook his head.

"We've been living here for over half a year now," Josh went on. "We were in Idealo only two months... And your father came from another place, right?"

"They've been monitoring us."

Josh blinked, and his heart leapt again. "Where? Here? In Paris?" He was amazed hearing his voice quivered.

Now Alain nodded. Instinctively, Josh looked around as if he were to spot possible... spies in the corner... but, of course, there was no-one but the two of them in the bedroom. Only the candlelight moved on the walls and furniture, creating fantastic shadows in the recesses of the room. He suppressed the absurd urge to draw back the curtains to make sure there was no-one behind the window; they lived on the fourth floor and the flats had no balconies.

But if Alain said... He looked at him again.

"They... sent someone to follow me... And they learned about you," Alain whispered, moving closer. "About us. They know everything."

Josh stared at him petrified, trying to gather his thoughts that had scattered in all directions again. "Who...?" he uttered.

Alain pointed his chin at the wall and the door behind his back. Josh turned around, unable to understand at first. Behind the door, there was the living-room; behind the living-room was the kitchen. Behind the kitchen was...

His gaze returned to Alain, and he opened his eyes wide. "Francis...?" he asked in a stifled whisper.

Alain nodded once more.

"Impossible," Josh replied right away. "Why... How..." What it was that he wanted to say? Maybe that he just couldn't reconcile the merry musician with a spy, regardless of how Francis had behaved with him...? Maybe he was a jerk... and a homophobe, but... it just... didn't fit together. "Why do you think so?" he asked, fixing his eyes on Alain.

"Cause he acts that way..." Alain replied with emphasis, "is curious about everything. Haven't you noticed? He wants to know everything, about you, about me... He's interested in our past."

"But..." All neighbours used to act like that, right? No, he just couldn't imagine Francis to... spy on them. And inform against them. If anyone... If he were to suspect anyone of that, he would rather... "Pierre fits that role much better..."

Only after he heard that words, he realized he'd spoken his thought. Alain got even more upset and gave him such a look that stirred some very unpleasant sensation in Josh. Not that he'd found that conversation pleasant before; it kept sending shivers down and up his spine.

"Roland... The journalist?" Alain asked in a dull voice.

"No, I just blurted it out," Josh rushed to correct himself. Really, was he going to suspect everyone in the tenement? Maybe even Mrs Bonnet, who was so curious about his life with Alain...? "Don't take it seriously."

Alain, however, was clearly taking it seriously. He put both arms around himself, and his gaze lost its focus. "They've involved him too, of course," he said thoughtfully. "A journalist... No-one could fit better. Yes, he may know."

Josh's heart beat faster. He gulped and remembered the scene that had happened on the staircase at the beginning of the year. The staircase... Involuntarily, he glanced in the direction of the front door, and his hand searched for Alain's when he thought he could hear something. No, it was just his imagination. There was no-one there... He looked at Alain again. Should he tell him about what happened in January? He should, without doubt; he was no longer allowed to hide something...

"I... think he knows about us," he admitted in a soft voice. "Not that we've been particularly hiding it, right?" ha added and tried to smile, but he could only bring some grimace on his face. "Then..." He revealed how Pierre had surprised him with that remark during his talk with Mrs Bonnet. "I thought he just said it to say something. To be mean... but maybe he really had guessed. But... I didn't see him at all recently, so I don't believe he could... _spy_ on us." It sounded strange in his mouth. "I bet he's been getting night shifts... Besides, he's been living here longer."

Alain shook his head. "It doesn't matter. They've drawn him into this, just like Vidal. I bet it's Vidal who recruited him. Yes, there's no doubt."

"But Francis..." Josh returned to their next door neighbour. "He's a musician," he said, as if it were to prove anything.

"I've never heard him playing," came the reply.

Josh looked at Alain in disbelief. "What are you talking about? We could hear him practising many times... You must have heard," he added, simultaneously wondering when was the last time he'd heard it himself... and realized he didn't remember.

Alain shrugged; apparently he didn't plan to quarrel. However, he pointed at another thing, "Don't you find it strange that he moved here right now?"

"Alain, I think you're reading too much into that," Josh objected weakly. He didn't like the direction that conversation was taking. Well, he didn't like it from the beginning, but now they were no longer talking about the two of them, but also about third part... And Josh didn't feel comfortable about that. "The flat was free, that's all. It's a normal thing that people move out and in. And it's a good location-"

"If he really plays a cello, don't you think he should have chosen another house?" Alain interrupted him. Candlelight was reflected in his eyes, nearly black in the darkness of the bedroom. "With a lift. Why did he moved on the fourth floor? To carry down and up such a load every day? But it's over ten kilos. Not to mention his school is on the other end of the city. Who would like to move dozen or so kilometres with such a load, day by day...? Besides..." he looked around and lowered his voice again, although no-one could hear them. "I got to know that the previous occupant had moved out in a great hurry. And he'd been living here very long... For me, things are clear."

Josh stared at him, trying to encompass all that... He couldn't deny that there... _was_ some reason in what Alain was saying. And that it all seemed to fall into place, creating a most disquieting whole. He'd once helped Francis carry up the box with the cello, and he knew it wasn't a light luggage. If that really was a cello, to begin with... And, in fact, after that he had never, not even once, seen the musician with his instrument, while he would run into him very often. If the man was a music student, he should use his instrument every day, not only at home, but also at the conservatory...

He gulped and overcame another shiver.

"And when he quizzed you about Georges, remember?" Alain prompted. "He just asked casually, or so it seemed outwardly, while you said him right away we've known each other from school."

"Because he's a musician! He knows Georges... by his profession. And he loves Georges' music," Josh objected, albeit faintly. "It's only natural he wanted to talk..."

"And he just guessed that Georges had sent us the tickets? What if he opened the envelope and saw it himself?"

Josh said nothing. It was true that if Francis had really wanted those tickets as much as he'd stated, he would have rather taken them once he'd laid his hands on them... He opened his eyes wider. "You think he'd taken that letter out of our box?" he asked quietly, feeling bad at the very thought.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Alain replied without emotion.

Josh remained silent. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that Francis Vidal could really be someone else he'd seemed to be. Indeed, Josh had that impression that... there was something false about the musician's behaviour. He gulped once more, remembering what had happened on the staircase on Friday; it still made him feel sick. Francis, even though at first he'd pretended he would like to do so, when provoked had clearly gave to understand he found it repulsive, the idea of... sleeping with Josh... and it seemed that was his true face. Josh was more and more convinced it was not about the tickets; they were only a guise...

Holding back the feeling of disgust, he told Alain about the event - as much as he could remember. He was sure that it was Francis' words, not deeds that hadn't led to anything, that truly mattered... He quoted the neighbours all remarks - hoping that Alain would understand more than he.

Alain listened to it, his face white as a ghost and his pupils as diluted that they appeared to fill whole irises, squeezing his hands so hard it would undoubtedly leave the bruises. In the end, he nodded as if everything proved right to him.

"They want to pull you away from me," he said in a dull voice and then mused for a moment, before looking at Josh again. "Yes, you're right. They won't achieve anything in the court. I told them that the last time... Then they started to threaten that... _they would do something to you_..." His voice broke... and it seemed a mask fell off his face. Now, Alain was staring at him immensely terrified. "That if I gave them the money... if I withdrew... they would leave us alone... they would leave you alone. That the choice was mine... And they've already begun...! O God..." The tears came to his eyes, and his lips started to quiver.

Josh was shocked by that sudden change in his behaviour, so violent, so unexpected... He was shocked to see Alain in such state... He couldn't look at that. He jerked up and embraced him as much as he could. "But I'm all right," he whispered as convincingly as possible. "I'm all right, Alain."

Alain put his arms around him, as if he didn't want to ever let go of him, and they were sitting like that in silence. Josh tried to understand everything he'd heard, but it seemed impossible when his heart was beating wildly in his chest and the air was so dense it was hard to breathe. He pressed his cheek to Alain's hair and closed his eyes tight, attempting to calm down, for Alain needed his calm.

What touched him the least was the danger to his life; it seemed so abstract, he couldn't even feel it, not yet. Maybe soon, maybe in an hour, maybe tomorrow it would become more real, but not yet. This moment, what moved him the most was the suffering Alain must have been experiencing for weeks. Now he could fully understand his recent behaviour, marked by uncertainty, anxiety, growing feeling of danger... and fear. For himself. And for Josh. He hugged him even closer, trying to give him all his confidence. That everything would be all right. That nothing bad would happen. That they would cope with it.

'Oh, Alain, Alain... Why didn't you tell me? We would've taken care of that together, we would've faced it together... You didn't need to worry about that alone.' He wanted to say that, as well as many other things, yet he kept silent, aware that such words were pointless. Thus, he was only holding Alain in his arms and stroking his hair, trying to comfort him. Social phobia, that's what he'd thought... He hadn't had the faintest idea what kind of torture Alain had been enduring for so long.

It took a while before Alain managed to speak again, although the load weighing on him wasn't any smaller. "They said, either you or me," he whispered, still in Josh's embrace. "You don't know what kind of people they are. They would do anything... They would stop at nothing..."

"Let's leave here," Josh said without thinking. "Tomorrow. Or even tonight. We will take only the most necessary things and go away, far away. Even abroad."

"They would find us," Alain interrupted him. "They would fins us everywhere," he said in a strangely indifferent voice, letting him go.

Josh moved back and stared at him. "What are you saying? Do you want to give up like that?" he asked with fear.

Alain blinked and then shook his head. "No, you're right."

"Then, what are we going to do?"

Alain looked at the door behind his back. "What can we do if they are there? If they are standing in the corridor and waiting for us?"

"If... But they won't stay there for ever," Josh noticed lucidly.

"They were in the opera. I saw them."

Josh stared at him, his eyes even wider. "Where...? How did they look like?" he asked; every piece of information was important.

"They were standing... in the shadow... on the balcony. I couldn't see clearly."

Josh swallowed the disappointment. "Then... what are we going to do?" he repeated his question.

Alain, however, didn't know the answer. He was sitting with his eyes fixed on the bed-cover.

"Alain... I really think we should go to the police," Josh said slowly.

"We're never going to reach the station," Alain replied in a whisper. "They would get us..."

"In that case, we'll call the police," Josh decided, reaching for the phone and passing it to Alain.

"No!" Alain knocked the item out of his hand. "They're eavesdropping on phone calls."

"We have to do something," Josh felt he was getting impatient. "How do you imagine that? Are we going to stay home until we're dead?"

Alain shivered and gave him a frightened look. Ugh, it was quite bad wordage on Josh's part, indeed. Anyway... They couldn't hide in the flat for ever. Even if Alain's tale scared him - as much that he finally started to believe they were in danger - he wasn't going to give in to the fear. They would achieve nothing just hiding. Although, if Alain - the very same Alain, who'd once been capable of the greatest bravado and couldn't care less for any threat - was so terrified... so paralysed by that terror, it meant there was reason for it. Josh had to understand that.

"Then, maybe you should just give them that money?" he thought of yet one option. "We'll manage. You'll find a new job, and I have my scholarship... We're going to live economically; we'll manage. We can even move into the smaller flat. One room would be enough for us... I mean... Sorry, that's your money, I have no right to administer that... But if that's going to make them leave you... leave us alone..."

He found it pretty sound offer, but Alain shook his head. "They won't leave us alone," he said dully, clutching his fingers on the bed-cover. "Not any more. They're not going to withdraw now. They exposed themselves too much... to just let us go. They know that, if they let us go, it would backfire. They're going to get us for sure."

"Alain... what you're saying... it's like you wish that they got us," Josh stated more harshly he'd intended to. "Such thinking would bring bad luck. We really have to think of something... The faster the better," he added firmly.

But Alain only embraced him, burying his face in his hair. "Don't leave me..." he whispered. "If I lost you... I can't lose you..."

Feeling helpless, Josh stroked his hair. "You're not going to lose me," he replied in a soft voice. "I'm by your side. I'll always be."

They stayed like that for a longer while before going to sleep. In bed, Alain clung to him and held him in his arms, as if afraid that Josh would disappeared if he'd let him go. Josh didn't expect to fall asleep this night... He couldn't quite banish the idea that behind the front door, on the staircase, a murderer could wait for them... His heart was beating fast, and his breath got quicker every now and then; he managed to calm down only for short moments... saying to himself that it just wasn't possible. That it was the darkness creating such macabre visions. That everything would look better in the morning.

For hours, he kept proceeding everything he'd learned in his head, trying to find a way out of the situation. However, no matter how long he thought, the only sensible solution seemed to inform the police, even if Alain opposed that so much. Josh had no other choice: he needed to convince him there was no other way. It could be that making that decision calmed him enough to fall asleep at dawn, although the dreams tormenting him in those morning hours were far from pleasant.

* * *

 _Emily Bidinger, "Aura"_


	8. Chapter 8

**8.**  
 _ **(ei mitään hätää jos ei omat voimat riittäneet)**_

* * *

After the conversation they'd had at night, Alain felt reluctant to even go out of the bedroom, as if he suspected a contract killer was lurking behind the door and only waiting to get them through the keyhole. There was no keyhole whatsoever, but the door was wooden, and if anyone wanted to break in, it wouldn't pose a bigger problem. Josh, however, lucidly thought that, had anyone really wished to get them, they would have done it at night, not by daylight, when the staircase was filled with the occupants, and thus he decided to normally move around the flat and even managed to convince Alain to do the same, more or less.

In the morning, Alain's tale seemed much more incredible than at night, by the candlelight, but Josh could feel Alain's fear clearly enough to challenge it. Alain was frightened to death. And, what was bitter-sweet to realize, he feared for him, in the first place; Josh had seen it with his own eyes. How come he had doubted Alain's love? Now he failed at justifying himself.

Nevertheless, there were more important things than getting self-critical; he had to find the way out of the predicament. Josh was not the type to give up when facing the threat, and thus his mind didn't stop searching for the solution. Above all, they had to ascertain whether there was an _imminent_ danger. First, although Alain objected, Josh drew back the curtains in the living-room and carefully studied the scenery outside. Nothing attracted his attention as a source of a possible threat: the windows of the opposite tenement were just like always, the children were playing in the yard, and the doves and sparrows were circling over the houses normally. He didn't open the window, but everything was fine with it, as much as he could see from the inside. Then, although Alain objected that even more, he approached the front door and silently looked through the peep-hole. The corridor was empty as were the stairs, as far as he could see. The blackout was over, and the lights worked again. The neighbour from the fifth floor was returning from the walk with her dog, that was sniffing at every door, just as it used to. There was nothing abnormal in its behaviour, which meant no strangers were on the staircase, otherwise the dog would announced it with its loud barking.

He let out a sigh of relief, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath... No reason to hide it; the atmosphere of the night talk had influenced him, all right... But the staircase was clear, and that mattered the most now; Josh didn't believe anyone unauthorized to appear by day, so Alain and he should be safe until the evening. He hadn't even thought of going to the university, not today - besides, the classes would end this week, and the next one the end-of-term examinations were going to start... That reflection, however, made Josh stop in his tracks. He realized that his studying at the university could get complicated soon... At the moment, he wasn't even sure whether he would still be in Paris the next week. He felt a pang at the thought he might leave this house... this flat, where they'd experienced so many good days with Alain...

He shook his head to sober himself. The place was of no importance, really; it was Alain's presence that mattered... and they were going to experience a lot of good days from now on, too. In case of a compulsory pause, he could always postpone his graduation. He'd managed to complete the first year despite his bad condition, so he was going to succeed in the future, especially with Alain by his side. There was nothing to worry about in this regard. Yet, the pang in his stomach wouldn't go, and when Josh focused on it, he realized... he was hungry. Well, it _was_ quite late already, and the last time he'd eaten was... yesterday afternoon. Last night, neither of them couldn't bother about that - they'd been too alarmed to even think about eating - but now that the adrenaline level was back at normal, at least Josh's organism demanded food, and twofold.

He made for the kitchen, which nearly gave Alain a panic attack, but he gave him a meaningful look and said firmly, "We are safe."

What could Francis Vidal do to them through the wall and the cupboards? Nothing. However, not willing to deepen Alain's fear even more, he prepared the breakfast as quickly as possible and, when leaving the kitchen, he closed the door, which they hardly ever did. The door made a drawn-out creak, and Alain started with his eyes wide open.

Josh sat down by the table and took him by the hand. "We're safe," he repeated, trying to comfort him. "Eat something," he added, pushing the bread basket in his direction.

Alain, however, didn't have an appetite, for he only ate one sandwich and drank his coffee in one gulp. He was tense and quiet, and not an inch less anxious than the last night. If Josh had expected their conversation to change anything between them - maybe restore that intimacy they had once enjoyed - he was disappointed. The only thing that had changed in Alain's behaviour was that, when earlier he would try to keep Josh at a distance - probably afraid to... lose him - now he seemed to cling to him, seek help from him. In fact, it wasn't that strange; he'd been tormented by that terrible burden alone for weeks, so when he'd finally disclosed the reason of his behaviour, he must have felt he and Josh were the same. Josh had nothing against supporting Alain; he found it completely natural. That was what a relationship of two people meant. For him, it was obvious that the difficulties were to be shared.

The late breakfast passed undisturbed, and Josh realized he wasn't so tensed as before; it'd probably happened already when he'd confirmed the absence of any suspicious people on the staircase. Now, he found it easier to breathe and talk, and focus on daily matters, even if the situation was far from daily. It didn't mean that he spent a carefree hour eating, either; he finished quite soon. He drank the tea and once more grabbed Alain, who'd been staring at his own plate for a longer while, by the hand.

"What are we going to do?" he asked the question from the last night, looking at him with affection.

"We can't lea-" Alain started, but Josh interrupted him right away.

"We have to get out of here. We have to go to the police," he said for the umpteenth time. Alain squeezed his hand so hard it hurt, but he apparently wasn't realizing it. In his eyes behind the too long fringe was only terror. "Alain, tell me what it is you fear so much," Josh asked patiently, brushing the brown hair aside.

"Them," Alain uttered.

"Them... Those relatives of y... of your father?" Alain nodded. "Do you think they are in Paris now?"

Alain hesitated and then nodded again, although there was more reservation to his gesture; apparently, he wasn't sure. "And... If not they, then their people. They could've... hired anyone," he said.

"You're exaggerating," Josh decided, trying to sound calm and reasonable, not critical. "It's impossible to hire _anyone_."

"But Roland...! And Vidal...!"

Josh nodded slowly. They'd already ascertained that Francis Vidal wasn't a person to be trusted. Josh could even assume that his cello box didn't contain a instrument only some other... tool. But in order to use it, Francis would have to bore a hole in the wall between their flats, which sounded absurd. For what Josh could see, the musician wasn't lying on the roof of the opposite tenement, aiming at their window, either.

"Alain," he spoke, his voice still calm, "Yesterday you went out. And nothing happened," he said with emphasis.

"They almost got us there," Alain protested right away.

Josh suppressed a sigh. "We cannot be sure of that," he replied. "We didn't see anyone on the staircase... All right, it was dark... because of the blackout. It was a blackout," he repeated when Alain opened his mouth to object. "Then, no-one tried to get inside, although they could've done it at night. Now, there's no-one there, either; neighbours move on the staircase normally. I think... I think we're safe for now. I think they... haven't yet started to... organize anything. Maybe we _are_ being monitored," he said and was surprised by how sceptical he sounded, "maybe even by Vidal and Roland, but it still doesn't mean that someone wants to kill us."

"They phoned... threatened...!"

"I'm sure those calls scared you very much..." Josh agreed, "but maybe those were only idle talk? Empty threats with nothing behind them?" he offered. "It's a long way from threats to acts; hardly anyone is brave enough to realize what they talk about."

"You... haven't heard them," Alain retorted fiercely, "What they talked about you... what they are going to do to you." He covered his face with one hand, clearly thrown off balance, and Josh's heart clenched again. "They said I'm going to look at it... and they won't stop... and..." He bit his lips to stop their trembling.

"What did they say about me?" Josh asked almost without any emotion.

Alain remained silent for a longer while, apparently mustering his strength... to launch into the tale that literally made Josh's hair stand on its end. Alain spoke in broken sentences, a few words at once, with pauses, and Josh listened to him, wondering more and more if such a macabre was possible in the 20th century, for it fitted some medieval horror much better. Someone had an imagination, all right... No wonder that Alain, who himself wasn't known for fantasising, was so shocked; he would've never conceive anything like that... Instinctively, Josh reached and touched his arm to comfort him. Poor, poor Alain... But could there really be people capable of such things? For money? Well, people were able to do anything if money was at stake, but still... Josh doubted it.

"For me, it sounds more like a sick invention of someone who's abnormally fascinated in horrors," he said slowly after Alain finished for good.

"But they... they are so," Alain replied, shaking his head.

"Alain, I think you should've told them to go to hell with their threats," Josh said emphatically. "That you didn't feel like listening to such rubbish." Only, he realized, it didn't really mattered now.

"But I... I couldn't... If anything happened to you..." Alain gave him an imploring look, as if he was astonished that Josh didn't understand him.

"We have to end it." Josh didn't care about his protests and got up. He was already sick of that all. "We're going to the police."

Alain was faster; he jumped up from his chair and embraced him from behind, immobilizing him.

"Alain," Josh lost his patience," I'm not going to stay at home for the rest of my life, for fear of someone wanting to kill me."

"We can't... we can't leave," Alain whispered.

"Alain..."

"I can't lose you. I'm not going to let them take you. I won't let them hurt you."

Josh felt frustrated... and then reluctantly thought he knew well what it meant to be terrified so much that one stopped listening to the reason and remained paralysed by fear.

"Alain, if you don't let go of me, we-"

"I will never let go of you."

Josh froze. And then he came to the conclusion he felt like crying. He hadn't expected... He would have never expected that those words... that promise... would turn against him one day. And that the time would come when things he'd always wanted to hear from Alain's mouth, would be... so misplaced, so unfitted, so... unreasonable. "I can't lose you. I won't let them take you. I won't let them hurt you." Every person wanted to be told such things... Apparently, Alain didn't see any other option than only protect him with his own two arms...

But it didn't help the situation... and Josh felt he had no more ideas how to get out of it. He couldn't free himself from Alain's embrace - Alain was much stronger - and besides... why should he do it?

"I'm not going anywhere," he said in the end, resignedly, but it took a longer while for Alain to release his grip and let him move.

Maybe it would go away, he thought with reluctance. Maybe if they stayed at home today, secure and undisturbed by anyone, and had just a normal day, Alain would calm down... see they were safe. Until now, he'd allowed - what a terrible word - Josh go to the university and everywhere... and yesterday he'd even left home himself. It was only today... because they'd talked until late about those scary things... that Alain's fear escalated. Today, if nothing... Well, _for sure_ nothing would happen... then Alain would understand there was no reason to fear, and start acting normally... and think normally. It was much better option than resolving the matter by force. Josh remembered that Alain, in crisis, used to behave quite irrationally, so he was able to treat him with tolerance, even if he was of the opinion they should address the problem differently.

The noon passed without any trouble, although Alain would still jump at the slightest noise coming from the corridor. Josh tried to keep his calm and tend to the household in a perfectly natural way: he cooked the dinner from what he could find at home, defrosted the fridge (the recent power failure had some contribution to it), and cleaned the kitchen. The proper conversation didn't happen, because Alain could only talk about the current situation, while Josh preferred to avoid that topic since it only worsened Alain's mood, while the discussion itself wouldn't change anything about their position. Not for better, anyway.

It was nearly five o'clock, and Josh was filling the fridge again, when a quiet knocking on the door was to be heard. Alain was staying in the bedroom and probably didn't notice it, maybe he was asleep... Josh got up with hesitation, at first, but then decided to approach the door. He looked through the peep-hole, only to see Mrs Bonnet, who was holding a paper bag in her hands and looking very normal. Well, why wouldn't she, now? There was no-one in sight but her, and the staircase was usually lit.

Josh pulled back the both bolts. "Good afternoon, Mrs Bonnet."

"Good afternoon, dear. I'm happy to find you at home," she said in her typical chattering voice. "I didn't see you returning from the university, so I wasn't sure, but I have an urgent matter-"

"Mrs Bonnet, before that," He raised one hand, deciding to use the opportunity. "Have you seen any suspicious people in our tenement recently?" he asked, counting on her observation skills that enabled her to always know what happened in the building. He had no idea how she did that, except for sticking to the peep-hole for hours, but the level of her information was to be respected anyway.

The neighbour blinked. "Suspicious?"

"I mean... strangers," Josh qualified. "Has anyone been hanging around here lately?"

Mrs Bonnet mused. "There was Easter, so the traffic was considerable. Many occupants had visitors..." she said. "But I recognized nearly all of them."

"And after Easter? The last week?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "No... I didn't see anyone," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Ah... You see... There's that talk that living in tenements is unsafe," he invented. "You must have heard about what happened in the Fourth Arrondissment... about that woman who was killed in her own flat... only for robbery..."

Mrs Bonnet was staring at him with a polite smile. "I haven't," she replied calmly, her expression clearly indicating that in such a case the event either didn't happen or mattered.

"Ah..." Josh chuckled nervously. "I must've mistaken something... Too much studying and all... What is it that you need me with?" he asked, desperately trying to efface the bad impression. "You said it's urgent...?"

"Ah, you see, it's about my Anne again..." she said in a lower voice. "And it's not a conversation to have on the staircase... Do you mind if I come in? I've brought some croissants." She slightly waved the bag.

Josh hesitated. In different circumstances, he would've let her in right away, but now... "Mrs Bonnet, I'd be happy to talk with you, but..." He turned back to look at the flat, that was still silent. "Alain is not feeling well," he confessed, staring at her again. "I'm really sorry..."

"Oh, then, I apologize," the neighbour put one hand up to her lips. "I bother you unnecessarily. Tell me if I can be of any help."

Josh, who was going to close the door, blinked. Help. Yes, it was the right word in the situation he'd founded himself in. It was his chance. Maybe the old lady could... Maybe she could inform the police? Josh couldn't do it himself, but he could ask Mrs Bonnet. He trusted her and knew she would help him as much as possible. Of course, it might resolve their problem today. He opened his mouth to pass the message before Alain could interrupt him... and closed it again.

What should he tell her, actually? That someone threatened... threatened their life? It would only scare her unnecessarily. And, besides, she would have to tell the police some reason. 'One of our occupants asks that you go to see him in his flat.' No, something like that wouldn't do. The policemen couldn't visit people just like that, it was obvious.

Apart from that... Doing so, he would be disloyal to Alain. Alain trusted him, and Josh thought they needed to find the way _together_. If Josh had made something like this behind his back, Alain would have felt hurt. No, they would surely manage without the third part's assistance.

"Dear...?" Mrs Bonnet was looking at him questioningly.

He shook his head and returned to the present. "Thank you, Mrs Bonnet," he said with a faint smile. "We'll manage. Alain needs to get some rest."

"Are you sure everything is all right?" the old woman asked, her gaze scrutinizing.

"But of course!"

"You look tired... Have you been sleeping well?" she kept inquiring, concerned and apparently not misled by his assurance.

"That's because... You see... Last night... we..." He felt bad, deceiving her this nasty way, but he didn't see any other way to end this conversation.

Mrs Bonnet brightened. "Ah, that's the case... Well, then I'm not surprised you're tired," she agreed. "I won't ask more. I'm glad everything goes well now," she added with a flash in her gaze.

"I'm sorry I can't invite you today... I really am. I promise to visit you once the situation... once I'm able to," he guaranteed, wondering when that would happen.

"Don't worry about it," the neighbour replied, waving her hand. "Give my regards to Mr Alain and-" She paused and looked back.

It was when Josh heard the steps, too, and the next moment, over her shoulder, he saw Francis Vidal, running up the stairs. His mind got alarmed at once, and some warning formed inside his head. Running up? To the fourth floor? Without as much as losing his breath? What musician had such fitness?

"My, my! If it's not my favourite neighbour, Mrs Bonnet!" Francis called, reaching to her. "My regards."

The older woman turned to him with a smile, and Josh froze. He felt like slamming the door... but he just couldn't leave her - an innocent person, and so dear to him, on top of it - alone with that man who could be... well, in any case, who wasn't who he pretended to be...!

"Your buns were delicious," the man kept talking. "Pierre couldn't praise them enough... but when I told him they were from you, he looked like he regretted having eaten them. You're too cruel to him, Mrs Bonnet!" he added in some imploring voice, pressing one hand against his chest in a theatrical manner.

"If he were nice to other people, surely he would be treated differently," the woman replied bitterly, although she seemed pleased with the compliment.

"But he's a very nice person!" Francis objected. "We became friends right away. Well, true... At first he didn't even want to open his door, but... But then he really took liking to me. Now we see each other every day... He has a great knowledge, but it comes to him with a difficulty to open himself to others. Yet, not so much that it would interfere with his work." He gave Josh a meaningful look. "For what I learned, they think very highly of him in his work. But, Mrs Bonnet, forgive me. I have a business with our lovely friend..." He bowed and kissed her hand. "I'll visit you in the evening, to get more of your wonderful baking, if you don't mind."

The woman laughed, apparently not bothered by the fact her cakes ended in the stomach of her 'greatest enemy'; then she nodded and started to descend the stairs. Josh saw his opportunity and tried to shut the door, but Francis was faster, putting his long leg between it and the frame.

"Get out," Josh hissed, enraged, struggling with the door.

"First you're going to tell me about Saphir's concert."

Josh found himself speechless. Francis still felt like playing that game?!

"Like you said, I thought about what I want from you," Francis replied in a menacing whisper, and Josh suddenly realized the man was much taller than he. "Most of all, I want you to leave here for good, for I get sick just from seeing your pretty face..." 'The same to you,' Josh thought, wondering whether he should call for help. "But it's going to happen soon. You won't stay here alone, while your... mate left you long ago, right? You just didn't want to admit it, right?"

Josh looked at him like a lunatic. That man clearly had some delusions...!

"Although... Damn it," Francis said, moving his face even closer. "I can't look at you quietly. Damn it," he repeated with some uncertainty. "If you really want... you can still... You can still come to me..."

"Get out of here!" Josh called again, in a louder voice, not caring any more that someone could hear him. He was scared and annoyed, and furious, and wanted to get rid of that nut once and for all. His heart had been pounding like mad for a while now, his head was thumping, and his hands grew weaker.

Francis, his face twisted with anger, pushed his shoulder in the opening, apparently set on forcing his way inside. Then, however, Josh was sharply pulled backwards, which made him let go of the door, and Francis flew into the flat. Not for long, since the very next moment Alain literally threw him outside, and Francis didn't fall down the stairs only because he instinctively grasped the iron railing. With eyes widened with fear, he stared at approaching Alain, who, however, didn't intend to watch him, only grabbed him by the shirt-front and raised his other hand to deal a blow.

"No, Alain...!" Josh shouted.

In vain; Alain's fist was already falling upon Francis' face, and then again, accompanied by the threats, "I'm going to kill you!"

He didn't get to hit the third time, for Josh jumped to him and caught his arm, which let Francis free himself. However, Alain didn't plan to stop at that and kicked the man in the ribs, simultaneously trying to wrench himself out of Josh's clasp, which Josh, on his part, tried to obstruct. He was holding Alain with all his might, like never before, for he was dead sure that, if he let Alain hit, Francis would be massacred... And, despite being a git, he didn't deserve it... Or, rather, Alain didn't deserve to go to prison for a murder...!

"I'm going to kill you!" Alain yelled, his face twisted with blood-lust. "I'll kill... every one of you...! You won't get us! You won't get me!"

"Alain...! Stop it! Stop it! Don't do it!" Josh tried to pull him from Francis or, at least, prevent him from approaching the man.

"I'll kill him! I'm going to end that all! I won't let them get us!" Alain kept raving, and Josh knew he would free himself any moment.

Francis, however, got a grip on himself and didn't let the opportunity slip; he half fell, half walked down the stairs on the landing, to get far from Alain. Awkwardly trying to cover his bleeding nose, he looked terrible, but at least he was alive, even though he kept moaning. In the meantime, ruckus filled the staircase; many footsteps were to be heard, people were going out of their flats... Josh saw Mrs Bonnet stopping at the landing and trying to help Francis, and the next moment his gaze darted up when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of move on steps above. It was Pierre Roland, ascending the stairs slowly...

Alain must have seen that, too, for he froze, frantically shifting his gaze between Francis and Pierre... and the next second he pulled Josh inside the flat with one strong jerk and shut the door, hurriedly drawing the bolts. His face was white as a sheet.

Josh stood in the hall, breathing heavily and trying to gather his thoughts. He knew the trouble was inevitable... Although... People would undoubtedly call the police... and their coming here was convenient. He was almost grateful to Francis for having provoked him... well, for having provoked Alain, actually.

"You were right, we didn't need to leave..." he spoke once he managed to control his breath. "Policemen are going to come here themselves."

Alain looked at him, anger mixing with fear in his eyes, then sat down on the chair with his head in his hands. Josh went to him and touched his shoulder. "Everything's going to be fine," he said in a soft voice. "I'm with you."

Alain grabbed his palm and pressed to his cheek. "I won't let them hurt you," he uttered. "I won't let them take you."

Josh stroke him on the hair, wondering what he should prepare for now. He realized the situation hadn't developed the way he'd wished. But maybe it was better like that...? Standing by Alain, Alain's head pressed against his hip, he hoped that finally the matter would be over. The sooner the better, for it exhausted him to no end... even though, he remembered, he'd learned about it only yesterday, only last night... Yet, he was under the impression he'd been living in this uncertainty, in this tension for weeks... Well, in a way, it was true.

"I'll bring us some water," he offered.

Alain hugged him closer, but then released his clasp. Josh poured water into two glasses and gave one of them to Alain. They drank in one gulp. What had happened on the stairs must have shaken them both... although, in Alain's case, it was just _one more_ event in the whole sequence of danger. Josh took the other chair and sat down next to him, unable to refrain from embracing him and pulling him closer. Alain didn't object; he clearly derived comfort from that contact... and Josh probably compensated himself for those days... weeks that he'd been devoid of it. But now everything was going to be all right... everything would be just fine.

They were sitting like that in silence, interrupted only by usual, so normal sounds - gurgling in the pipes, laughter of children in the yard, coo of the doves - even though nothing was normal any more. Josh felt very tired... but he had to manage somehow, for Alain. He had to be there for Alain. Once again, he was struck by the unreality of the situation, as if he was looking at if from outside and saw clearly that everything was completely wrong... For a moment, he didn't know what he was doing here and what he was waiting for, what was going to happen and how would end... Would he be able to grasp it? Would he like to grasp it? Now? But now... Now he was holding Alain in his arms, and it was his _only_ reality. He was with Alain; there was no other option.

Finally - it seemed the eternity had passed, although it'd been just one hour since the event on the staircase - the footsteps, many footsteps, rumbled outside, making Alain raise his head, as if he'd waked up from sleep.

Josh squeezed his arm, his heart beating faster. "Everything will be fine," he assured in a calm voice.

The next moment, a decisive knocking was to be heard, and then another, backed by the call, "Police! Open the door!"

Josh stirred; he wanted to get up and let them inside, but Alain caught him and stopped. Josh looked at him - at those eyes widened with terror, face twisted with tension, flaring nose-wings - and said with emphasis, "Alain, we have to get it over with." But Alain only squeezed his arm tighter.

"Damn it, hurry! We don't know what's happening there!" Francis' voice came from behind the door, but the reply was given in a lower tone, so they couldn't hear it.

Alain twitched, and Josh thought he could understand him. What was Francis doing there? If he was a spy monitoring them, he should stay away from the police... In fact, Josh realized he didn't care about it at all.

The key clanged in the lock - Alain clasped his hands so tight Josh suppressed a hiss of pain - and then one bolt was unlocked, and soon the other as well. The door slowly opened. Alain jumped to his feet, staring at the entrance wildly. No-one got in, but a few figures could be seen right behind the doorstep. Josh frowned upon seeing that the officers were wearing the full combat uniforms.

"It's police. Refrain from making any sudden moves," the man standing in the front, apparently the captain, said. For a moment, from the corridor, he examined the inside, focusing on the two of them in the middle of the living-room, opposite the front door, and then slowly entered. Two policemen followed in his steps, holding their guns.

Josh gasped. "We're not armed," he uttered. "We've been waiting for you..." He stopped. It was some exaggeration, to come here with weapon ready... as if they were going to arrest some criminal, while it was just a neighbour brawl in question...

"That's good," the commanding officer replied calmly and gave a sign to invite one more person, whose appearance felt somewhat familiar to Josh.

The stranger was wearing normal, light clothes and seemed a civilian. Against the uniformed policemen, he stood out much, although his face was one of those people used to forget right away. He stopped by the captain and, having quickly assessed the situation, said to Josh in a neutrally encouraging voice, "Come here, please."

Alain's hand gripped on his arm like a vice. "I..." Josh felt his mouth was dry; he gulped and licked his lips. "We're together in this. Alain and I," he declared firmly although, for some reason, he felt a grave fear.

The man observed him for a moment and then, never taking eyes off him, said, "Yes, now I can see it, but nevertheless I have to ask you to come here," his voice was calm, as was his gaze that seemed to embrace both Josh and Alain.

Josh hesitated, suddenly completely unsure what he should do; something in the man's voice urged him to obey, but... He looked back at Alain, who, next to him, was staring at the arrivals with insane dread on his face. He was breathing quickly, his muscles were tense to their limits, he was grasping Josh's arm that it was going numb... and looked like he was going to charge at the policemen... with his bare hands...!

In a quick move, Josh put the other hand on his chest to stop him. "Alain... no!" he whispered in despair, feeling that he didn't know what to do, that the situation was beyond his capabilities, that soon...

"Come here, lad," the commanding officer backed up the other man's request. "You've done what you could. It's enough. We're going to take care of it now. Your job is over..."

The man in the civil clothes hissed, but Josh could barely hear it, for the very same moment Alain turned to him and looked in such a way that Josh knew he was never going to forget that gaze, in which terror turned into sudden realization, then despair, then fury, then hatred...

...and the next second he thought he probably hadn't that much of his life left when Alain struck him in the face, making him fly at the wall and hit it with his head with a loud bang, so hard he could see stars... he moaned, managed to stay on his feet, but couldn't really raise his head, for everything was spinning... and the next moment two hands clenched on his throat, and he realized he couldn't catch his breath... the red spots swirling before his eyes, and he heard a growing buzzing in his ears... and, over it, a scream, a yell...

"It was you...! It's all your fault! You've betrayed me! I'll kill you...I'll kill...!"

The darkness saved him from the torment.

* * *

 _No need to worry if your own strength was not enough - Samuli Edelmann, "Ei mitään hätää"_


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**  
 _ **(Mr L, did you take your meds?)**_

* * *

Waking up was painful.

It could be that his consciousness had been returning for a longer while, throughout a state of some lethargy or stupor, and he really roused himself only now. His head was thumping with a dull pain, absorbing... suppressing all other sensations - but once he realized it, he started to become aware of other causes of his discomfort: piercing stabs in his right cheek, choking clench on his neck, and burning that spread over his left shoulder. He suppressed a moan, but it only irritated his throat, provoking a violent cough along with a feeling as if his head was splitting in two.

Now he really moaned, overwhelmed by the impression that he was falling down into some pit, without any control over his body that seemed to be torn to pieces. Still, he desperately tried to keep his consciousness - even if losing it meant to escape that torment he'd been experiencing and would still experience - so the dizziness slowly receded, and the ability to sense returned. He was no longer floating in an empty space but lying on the bed; he managed to finger the edge of it... Under him was a mattress, and a pillow under his head... He even realized he was covered with a blanket. That awareness of his own body gave him a sense of security. He enjoyed it for a moment, staying still; there was no use moving and evoking any new pain... Just as he thought about it, his throat became itchy again, but he managed to control another fit of coughing, although swallowing caused a very unpleasant sensation.

He felt a brim of glass on his lips. "Have some water," he heard a voice that he didn't know yet decided to trust. To his surprise, cold fluid soothed the burning in his throat. "Do you want a painkiller?" the voice spoke again.

He wondered what he should answer and finally said, "Yes," and was astonished to barely hear his own words even though he could clearly feel them being spoken... Feel all too well.

He caught the noise of paper being torn and then clatter of mixing, and the glass was once again put against his lips. He drank up, focusing on every swallow.

A chair creaked; someone apparently sat down by the bed... Josh thought it was high time to open his eyes and realize his own situation. Risking another dizzy spell and other unpleasant sensations, he cautiously lifted his eye-lids. The room was dark; only a bedside lamp was turned on. In its light, he had a look at the place and soon understood he was in his own bedroom. He felt some pang in his chest, as if a warning, some different kind of pain he'd been experiencing so far.

"I'm at home," he stated quietly.

"Correct," the person sitting by his right side replied.

Preparing himself for new discomfort - and trying to prevent it - Josh slowly turned his head. For a moment, he tried to discern the features in the shadow, and once he succeeded, he was surprised - and felt that pang again.

"Pierre Roland," he uttered and licked his lips.

"Correct again," came the response, and he could hear some hint of irony in it.

He closed his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts, to get the situation under control... to understand... to remember what Pierre Roland could do in his bedroom... However, it seemed impossible.

"How are you feeling?" the question was asked in a neutral voice.

"Terrible," he replied truthfully. "But I'm going to live."

"That's good," he heard. "Are you able to sit up? Or at least pull yourself up a bit? I think you will be more comfortable that way. And the painkiller will surely start working any minute now."

Josh mused over it and then opened his eyes again. "I can try."

He thought the pain was no longer so intense; the medication worked, indeed... or he'd managed to get used to it, a bit. Pierre put another pillow under his head, which helped Josh to sit a bit more straight, although he was still more lying. His mind seemed to be wrapped in wool, making it hard to concentrate.

"What happened to me...?" he asked when his own attempts to explain the situation resulted in failure.

"You don't remember?" there was a slight astonishment to Pierre's words. "Well, the doctor did say it to be possible," he added quickly.

"The doctor...?" He could remember no doctor.

"You have no fractures, don't worry," the journalist reassured him. "Light contusion of right shoulder, it should heal without any problems. Your face... is going to be back at normal in a few days, too. You probably have a mild concussion, but it's only a suspicion. For me, you look quite okay."

"How... do you know all that?" Josh asked and realized he was sounding unpleasant. Well, he felt unpleasant, for some reason.

"The doctor examined you... You don't remember that either?"

Josh said nothing. Apparently, there were more things he couldn't remember. For example... "Where's Alain?" he said in a hoarse voice, filled with sudden anxiety. "Why is he not here?"

It was only now that he remembered about Alain... after five minutes of talking with someone who was nearly a stranger, in his own flat. He must have hit his head hard, all right... But Alain... Should he be worried about Alain? Should he try to remember what had happened or, rather, ask straight, for Pierre seemed to know everything...? But how would it look? Well, he probably felt better and better if he started to feel bothered by such things...

"Alain is... in a safe place," he heard the answer. "You really can't remember a thing? Then..." the man's voice was thoughtful. "What is the last thing you remember? Because I don't know... how I should tell you all that."

It didn't sound good. Josh didn't want to give up and made an attempt at putting the shards of his memory together, although it took him a while, for he felt like falling asleep. He and Alain. They lived together in Paris for a several month. It was spring now; Easter had just passed. Josh had been busy with his studies, while Alain had been ill and feeling unwell...

The fast beating of his heart told him he was on a right course, so he kept thinking intensely; now it came a bit easier to him. Alain... had been staying home for a longer while, hadn't gone out... He'd withdrawn into himself, bothered by something... He'd had some troubles... He'd been scared of something!

His thoughts slowly found the proper tracks. Alain had been scared... that someone had wanted to hurt him... Some unknown relatives had wanted to take his inheritance from his father... He'd been threatened and followed. When... the two of them had attended Georges Saphir's concert... Alain had been certain their life had been in mortal danger. He'd told Josh everything, it was that incredible conversation by candlelight... here, in this very bedroom... and then, the next day - which was when, exactly? - Alain had attacked... Francis, whom he'd suspected of bad intentions... as well as Pierre Roland...

Josh raised his eyes on the journalist again and kept staring at him for a moment. Semi-darkness was friendly; his head wouldn't stand any brighter light... For some reason, he didn't feel at all alarmed by the man's presence here. Embarrassed, sure - as much as he could feel through that daze, so impossible to shake off - but not alarmed or unsafe. While he should, shouldn't he?

He returned to his last memories. "Police was here," he said in a low voice. "The neighbours called the police, right? After Alain beat Francis... right?"

"Right."

"But... I don't remember," Josh closed his eyes. "I don't remember what happened after that."

He couldn't remember, he really couldn't. He was lying in the silence and wondered whether he would remember it one day. Now, he felt it didn't really matter... The painkiller worked, putting his body in a pleasant numbness, which, in turn, caused a psychical torpor. Maybe he'd better fall asleep and sleep through that all...?

But he wanted to know about Alain. He shouldn't really sleep now... Alain...

"Well, hmm..." came after a longer while. "Police escorted Alain... like I said, in a safe place. But, hmm, in the course of... the operation you became slightly injured. It happened in the evening, and now it's two o'clock," Pierre informed. "You lost consciousness for a moment but regained it right away. The doctor examined you and decided your condition to be good. There was no need to send you to the hospital since you talked normally and presented no symptoms although you were obviously in shock. You were only given a sedative shot and slept until now. The doctor said you would recover fully in a few days.

Josh decided it sounded completely reasonable and credible, maybe the journalist's calm and sober voice contributed to it. It, however, revealed another unknown things and posed new questions.

"Mr Roland... Why are you here?"

"Would you rather prefer Francis?" Pierre asked mockingly.

Josh looked at him, feeling nauseous, although at the same time he realized he was slowly coming to himself. "No...!" he replied with a disgust.

The journalist seemed both amused and irritated as he continued, "Francis was more than willing to stay with you, but I made him understand he was getting himself into a criminal case, so he should rather keep away. It stopped him a bit.

"I thought... I thought you were friends," Josh stated with hesitation. "He hinted at it... yesterday..."

"That man has too vivid imagination," Pierre waved his hand. "I let him in, once, and he deluded something right away. Actually, it was quite a pain to listen to his totally incoherent comments about you. Forgive me that I ask, but are you aware he's taken a fancy to you?" he asked with an intent look.

"I am," Josh whispered, wondering why it was that this conversation didn't bother him at all, even though he would have never imagined to touch upon such topics with Pierre Roland.

"It seems, however, he wasn't sure himself what it was he wanted from you," the man kept talking. "Can you imagine he sought my advice on... what he should do to... How did he say it? Win your heart? Although, at the same time, he didn't stop to assure me that he would pulverize you. Is that some kind of slang? Anyway, after that I didn't open the door again. The artists can be a real bother."

Josh wondered about that for a moment but then came to the conclusion he didn't feel like caring about Francis Vidal. No, he really had no interest in that man; another thing concerned him... although maybe it wasn't a right thing either...

"Mr Roland... Were you here that time... with the police...?"

"Yes. Well, actually... I was on the corridor," Pierre qualified. "Only after everything was over they let me in."

"Can you... what happened here... Can it remain between the two of us?" Josh asked and felt stupid already when saying it aloud.

The journalist was silent for a moment; finally, he said ironically, "You mean... between us and half of the tenement?"

Josh felt a sudden load on his chest and thought it served him right. Although he didn't know the reason, he felt guilty... Or maybe ashamed? In that case, there was no help but go on. "Yes," he replied quietly, "between us and half of the tenement. I don't want... it to get into... the newspaper," he whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pierre straighten on the chair. "I specialize in politics," the man retorted slightly offended, "not domestic violence."

Josh stared at him... but he was too quick to turn his head, which made thousands of fireworks flare up inside his skull, and he felt sick.

"What...?" He touched his cheek, swollen and painful... although he thought the pain inside his chest was much more severe. "Is it... Is it Alain, who did it to me?" he whispered and was amazed he could say it aloud.

"No-one else could have," came the diplomatic answer. "Especially in his state."

Josh's hands clenched on the blanket. He couldn't remember it... not in his head... but his body remembered. Involuntarily, he lifted one hand to his throat... and realized he didn't want to remember. He didn't want. Never.

Pierre's voice broke into his consciousness when he'd managed to forget the man already, "Although the doctor assessed your condition as satisfactory, he wished someone stay with you. That's why I'm here. He said you need to rest and you shouldn't move much."

Josh didn't listen; he was too overwhelmed by emotions swirling inside him. He saw his hands shake. His head started to thump again. Suddenly, he no longer knew what happened, what had happened, couldn't understand... There was only one clear thought on his mind. "I have to talk to Alain," he said and tried to sit up, but Pierre stopped him, grasping him by both shoulders.

"You can't go anywhere now."

Josh had never hated the voice of reason as much as he did now. "I have... to see him," he whispered, aware he couldn't win against the man.

"You should rest now," Pierre said with emphasis. "You wouldn't even make to the door, you understand it, don't you? Have some sleep. First, you should regain your strength, it's the most important. If tomorrow... in the morning, if you feel good enough... I'll take you to him," he said with sobriety... and concern that Josh didn't want to accept. "All right?"

Josh realized there was no other option. A sudden fear - that Pierre wanted to keep him here while Francis could do something... to Alain - flared in his head and died away. He lay down on the pillow and closed his eyes. He couldn't resist the impression he was shaking all over.

"Do you need anything?" the journalist asked.

"No," Josh whispered in reply.

"Then, I'm going back on the couch." Pierre moved the chair back.

"Are you going to stay here?" Josh asked and wondered he could still feel surprised.

"I think it's the best thing to do. Would you rather have me go?"

Josh was silent for a moment, and then he answered in the negative. He was too weak to protest against anything. He had to throw himself upon the others' mercy. And besides... everything felt the same to him.

"You have a jug with water here. If you need anything, just call me. Don't worry, I'm a light sleeper, I'll hear you for sure. And I leave the door open, all right?"

"Fine."

Pierre switched the lamp off and left to the living-room. Josh was alone again - alone with his pain. Actually, the physical one had long ceased, relieved by a strong medicine. There was, however, no cure to soothe the one in his heart. For some reason, tears wouldn't come; there was only a great emptiness inside. Despite his terrible fatigue, he expected he would wait for sleep - too many shocking things had happened to make him anxious - but it could be that said emptiness, absorbing all strength, helped him to doze off.

* * *

In the morning, Josh felt much better, at least in body. Painkillers worked well, and his head was no longer thumping, so he could move, more or less. He managed to get up and tidy himself up. His left shoulder hurt when he used his arm, but it was not something he couldn't bear with. The worse thing was what he saw in the mirror: considerable swelling on his right cheek and blue bruises on his throat. Although he still couldn't remember anything, those marks told him what had happened... He brushed his hair to the side, in order to hide his wounds, as much as possible, and found himself a scarf to put it around his neck.

He had no appetite, yet he forced himself to eat some porridge that Pierre had prepared for him, saying that healthy food would get him on his feet faster. In daylight, it appeared that the journalist had spent the night in his flat indeed, and his presence here was not a dream. Josh tried hard to reconcile those two, seemingly completely different, people: an antisocial journalist and a caring neighbour, with whom he'd exchanged more words in the last few hours than for the previous half a year... But, ah, recently he'd kept making wrong judgements about people, so he really shouldn't be surprised when yet another person proved to be not what he'd thought.

However, when they were ready and went to the taxi, Josh became convinced he hadn't been wrong about one man, at least. Just as he took the key out of the lock, in the staircase appeared Francis Vidal, as if he'd spent the whole morning by the door of his flat, and started to besiege him. Josh was too upset to react and he only listened to the maniacal sequence of complaints, promises, demands and threats - but Pierre must have had much less patience, for he flatly told the musician to pull himself together and behave like a man, not a brat. And that he wouldn't dare to follow them, only stayed home and heal his face, for no-one wanted to be seen in his company, beaten like that. Francis started to exclaim some grumbles about their friendships, then got offended and withdrew into his flat indeed, while Pierre shook his head and stated with irritation, "He isn't evil, he's just disturbed. No sane people here."

Josh twitched at that last remark but decided to focus on getting himself down from the fourth floor, which was a kind of challenge with concussion, or even its suspicion. The taxi was already waiting. Pierre told the driver their destination, and they began to ride. Josh sat on the back-seat with his head down and didn't pay attention to his surroundings. He felt wretched - tired, sore, ashamed. Beaten up. He felt as if his world had crumbled into ruin, and everything had become pointless... and, at the same time, he was too weak to really agonize over it. As if his all energy, all... vigour had vanished. He didn't know whether it was the daze that made him so exhausted or, to the contrary, physical faintness helped him to detach himself from everything... What he wanted most was to go to sleep and never wake up again.

He realized such thoughts were bad. What to do if they flooded his mind? 'It's normal to be disappointed. Don't deny yourself feelings of sorrow, anger, or frustration. However, remember that depression is not the last station. Instead of staying in that sorrow, think about those bright things in your life. And what about you is joy for others. Think how to create a counterbalance for your embitterment. And remember the most important thing: one emotion must not obscure the whole picture.'

He took a deep breath and dared to raise his head. The taxi was passing pale buildings of Paris. Judging from the sun, they were moving south-east. The radio was playing, and the driver was humming. Pierre was sitting next to him, and it was only now that Josh could have a better look at the neighbour he'd never really had to do with. The man was slender, clad in suede jacket of indeterminate colour, and trousers. His hair was brown and short, and his eyes were dark and intent. His wore rather closed expression, without a trace of smile, now clearly weary. Josh could have guessed the man wouldn't have a good sleep on the couch, and felt a pang of guilt. He was about to speak - to the man who was helping him - when the ringtone was heard, and Pierre put the phone out from the inner pocket.

The call was short and ended in the journalist saying, "I'll be there in half an hour," before he hung up. "I'm urgently needed in the office," he explained, "so I can only escort you there. Here's money for your return trip," he took a note out of his wallet and pressed it into Josh's hand before Josh managed to protest. "And ask the driver to see you home, all right? Ah, we're already here. Wait for me a moment, will you?" he turned to the man behind the wheel, "You're going to take me to..."

Josh looked outside. Indeed, in the meantime, they had arrived... but what exactly was this place? The taxi passed the guarded gate and was now moving through the... park, beautiful in its spring glory. Josh could see neat lawns and flowerbeds, with benches and sculptures among them... and they were still going... heading for the building that could be described only as a palace. It didn't look like a police station or... a prison, where he supposed to meet with Alain. The car went round the magnificent edifice and approached a smaller one that, too, seemed a miracle of architecture - built of two-coloured stone, multi-storey, with arched windows, columns and various ornaments - before coming to a stop in front of the entrance. Josh got out, overcoming a dizziness, and Pierre showed him the way. They entered the building and found themselves in the spacious hall with what looked like a reception. Josh let the journalist handle the matter, and instead focused on the interior - much more modern the outside suggested - hearing only some words, "Alain Corail... last night... where... I see... But we only..."

The woman behind the desk looked into the files and after a short discussion imparted the demanded information along with the instructions how to get there. Josh could see her gesticulating over the high table towards the lift in the back. In silence, they went to the third floor and got out into a corridor that ended with the glass door. Pierre pushed the doorbell while Josh blankly stared at the panel above. 'Ward III,' it wrote. After a moment, the door was opened by a man of a big size, wearing an identity tag with name 'Damien' on it.

"This person is a visitor to Mr Corail, who was admitted to your ward yesterday. Please, take care of him," Pierre said and then turned to Josh. "I have to leave you here, so-"

"Mr Roland... Why are you helping me?" Josh interrupted him as the matter had been occupying him for a while now.

The journalist gave him a puzzling look. "That's a good question... But now I really have to g-"

"Will you stop by... later?" Josh spoke again almost involuntarily.

Now it was a surprise that the man stared at him with. "Would you like me to?"

Josh nodded, lowering his eyes. He didn't know what to think of that, himself. However, he knew he didn't want to be alone... and was completely sure that after meeting with Alain he would still be alone.

"I've no idea how long it's going to take in the office..." Pierre replied with reservation, but Josh only nodded once more. "In that case... See you later." He turned away and rushed to the elevator.

Josh's gaze returned to... Damien, who invited him in. The door was shut behind them with a quiet noise. Josh found himself in another corridor, rather broad, stretching all the way to a big window on the opposite end. It wasn't a cramped place, and every now and then larger spaces would open, with tables and armchairs. The walls and furniture were bright. And, what drew his attention, was a large number of smaller areas - rooms - behind the separate doors. Josh realized he didn't feel well here and, for a moment, he asked himself what he was doing here, to begin with. This place, although calm and full of light, depressed him. Or could it be that his own depression influenced his judgement? Yes, it had to be that.

Damien took him to the room behind another glass door and disappeared, only to return after a moment. "You came to visit, right, Sir? Well, it's a bit difficult... And I'm not even referring to visiting times, that start at two p.m.," he said.

Josh glanced at the clock on the wall: it wasn't even noon yet. He looked at the man again, who rubbed his neck in confusion but looked back at him with sympathy in his blue eyes.

"Well... The visit... is impossible now..." he added in a way that didn't explain anything. "But you had best talk to Dr Sellier. Fine?"

Josh nodded, for there was nothing else he could do. Damien led him to the side corridor and knocked on the door. 'Dr Colette C. Sellier,' the plate hanging by it announced. There was no answer.

"She must have not returned from the lunch yet," the man guessed. "Wait here, Sir... on the bench. She'll be right back. She always comes before twelve," he explained and left, while Josh couldn't resist the impression the man was relieved to get rid of a burden.

Alone again, Josh sat down on the wooden bench and fixed his eyes on the floor. He wondered whether it was his physical exhaustion making him so indifferent to everything... as if he'd lost touch with his surroundings... as if he was seeing it through a glass... But he'd already thought about it, he remembered. In his mind, he returned to Pierre Roland, who, for some strange reason, kept helping him... and to his own request that the journalist visited him later. Maybe he would ask him once more about the reason for such behaviour... Although, wasn't it all the same? He was under the impression he couldn't focus on anything, and his thoughts moved chaotically from one thing to another... Maybe he was running from something... trying to occupy his mind with anything in order not to think of that one matter, but he wouldn't really succeed...

He didn't sat long when footsteps were to be heard. He raised his head and remembered where he was and what he was doing here. A woman, not very tall, entered the corridor, browsing through the documents she carried.

"Dr Sellier...?" he asked with hesitation.

She raised her eyes on him and nodded. "It's me. Can I help you?"

Josh approached her, unsure what to say. "I came... to visit Alain Corail. I was told I should talk with you..." He paused but then mustered his courage, "Where is he? How is he doing? May I see him? Does-"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but who are you?" she interrupted him, looking at him closely. "I can give information only to spouses and family members."

Josh swallowed and lowered his eyes again. Suddenly, he felt very unwell. "I'm Joshua Or... Alain and I... we live together," he whispered, wondering whether there was any point to what he did and whether he wouldn't be driven out of here the next moment.

"In that case, I must apologize to you," the woman spoke, and her tone couldn't possibly be more sincere, which made him to look at her again. "Please, come in," she added, opening the door and slipping inside.

Josh followed her into the room full of books, folders, and various papers. It was bright and quite cosy, for an office. Dr Sellier put the documents on the desk - creating yet another pile - and turned to him, stretching her arm. "Colette Sellier. I'm a doctor on this ward. Pleased to meet you, Sir."

"Joshua Or... Please, call me by my first name," he replied somewhat awkwardly, shaking her hand.

She nodded and sat down in her chair, offering Josh a seat across the desk, facing her. "To tell the truth, I longed greatly to meet you," she said, putting her elbows on the desk. Josh felt surprised, and it was the very first clear emotion he'd experienced this day. "Well, maybe not exactly _you_ ; after all, I wasn't aware of your existence until just a moment ago... I wanted to meet someone who could tell me more about that case. What I know is just a few cold facts from the scene of the incident, which is too little too-"

"Doctor," Josh interrupted her, aware he was being rude. "Can I see Alain?" Suddenly, he was absolutely sure that nothing would be clear unless he talked with Alain... unless he met with Alain. All emotions he'd been suppressing until now - fear, uncertainty, loneliness, loss, despair, pain, and many more - overwhelmed him so strongly he felt like shouting. He clenched his fingers on the fabric of his trousers and forced himself to look upon the woman.

She was observing him keenly, but he didn't avert his eyes - as if only with a maximum concentration he could stay conscious.. stay _here_... and thus he was regarding her as attentively, although, at the same time, he was certain that, as soon as leaving this room, he wouldn't remember how she looked like. She had clear, cyan eyes that fitted well with her general appearance, and quite round face. Her light-brown hair was pinned up at the back of her head. She was wearing a blue turtle-necked blouse and a black cardigan with a brooch at one side and a name tag at the other. She couldn't be forty.

"I can't let you see him yet," she spoke after a moment of that mutual observation. "Last night, Mr Corail calmed down a bit, but his condition took turn for worse this morning, and I was forced to continue his seclusion. No-one can see him but the personnel, I'm sorry," she said and seemed to really feel so.

Josh lowered his eyes, trying to process... understand her words - and everything he'd learned... experienced... seen... since last morning... actually since last night, when the police had been accompanied by a physician. He could no longer excuse himself with exhaustion or shock... It was no use to escape from reality, painful as it was. But... hadn't it been painful before, already?

"Doctor, where are we?" he asked without looking at her. "It's neither a detention house nor..." He paused, realizing he sounded silly. He didn't know what kind of answer he expected. He didn't what kind of answer he wouldn't like to hear, either.

"We are at the Ward 3 of Department of Psychiatry in Saint-Maurice Hospital. This is Adult Psychiatry Unit," she replied in a calm voice.

Josh's fingers clutched again. One part of him received that news without any emotion, as if it was only a confirmation of what he'd known for a longer while; another part tried to object, even if futilely. "But... why here?" he uttered, still staring at his own lap.

He heard Dr Sellier taking a folder and browsing through it. "According to the information we were given, Mr Corail didn't leave home for weeks," she said in that matter-to-fact voice of her. "He behaved aggressively towards his neighbour, whom he accused of things that had no grounds. Upon police intervention, he was frightened to death and believed his life was in mortal danger."

"There was reason for that," the words left his mouth almost involuntarily. "He was really receiving death threats and-" He stopped; his reason told him he was being foolish. What reason Alain could have to attack _him?_

After five seconds the world became more sensible - and not, at the same time - and it was Dr Sellier's calm voice that did it, "In my eyes, it's a classic case of para... of persecution complex in question."

The words stayed in the air and kept ringing in Josh's ears. "Paranoia?" he whispered in the end, although something in his head remained silent in agreement. Not that he felt much better with it. "I should have guessed... I'm sorry..."

"What are you apologizing for?" came the question he hadn't expected.

"I should have understand it myself..." he muttered. "I study psychology."

"But you're not sitting here as a psychologist but a family member, are you?" she stated the obvious.

It stopped him. The word 'family' filled him with sudden warmth. It was the first time someone referred to Alain and him as a family...

"Anyway," she kept talking, "we may have different opinions, but it shouldn't hinder our co-operation, should it?"

He looked at her over the desk and saw her staring at him intensely. Something made him nod.

"Good, I'm glad," she replied somewhat stiffly. "In that case, could you please tell me everything from the beginning?" she suggested in a more friendly voice.

"From the beginning...?" He gave her a confused look. "You mean... when we were back at school...?"

Maybe it was just him, or the sunlight coming into the room playing tricks on his eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched. "My, no... I meant... Well, I'll be happy to hear about that, too, but later." She cleared her throat, covering her mouth with one hand. "No, I mean the current situation, from when it started... It couldn't possibly last for years...?"

Josh shook his head. Gathering his thoughts, he started to talk - at first, in a halting, breaking voice; then, more and more fluently - about the events of the last weeks. About Alain's pneumonia in March, his long sick-leave, and slow recuperation. About his growing reluctance to leave home, and fear once he'd been forced to do so. Finally, about Alain's suspicions towards the two neighbours and his belief that the relatives wanted to get rid of him in order to seize his money.

His story took a good quarter, maybe more. As he spoke, he realized thinking no longer came with such a difficulty to him. Maybe it was the fact he could speak out what he'd been holding inside so far, that helped. Dr Sellier listened to him attentively, writing down every now and then, asking the questions, and guiding him back to the main thread whenever he happened to depart too much from it.

"He was persecuted, Doctor," he said, wanting her to believe him, although he still felt his acting was silly. "They called and threatened him..."

"Are you absolutely sure of that?" she asked in that neutral tone of her that, for some reason, wasn't at all displeasing. "Can you verify that?"

Josh said nothing. Could he?

"And those neighbours..." she went on. "Wasn't it them who called the police, in the first place? Both of them were on the spot and were concerned about the event, or so it seems," she said, looking into the records again.

He wondered whether he could hear a reproach in her voice, or was it his remorse speaking...? True, now he couldn't believe Pierre Roland might have any bad intentions towards Alain and him... As for Francis, he wasn't that sure, especially after he'd lost any sympathy for him, but objectively he was also inclined towards the opinion that the man had problems with himself, and hence his behaviour.

The truth slowly started to sink. Alain was... ill... seriously ill and... It was like another blow. Despair overwhelmed him, that terrible pain in his chest, clenching even his throat. He lowered his head. "I should have guessed," he repeated in a whisper, trying to hold his tears. "No, actually... I think I guessed it long ago," he admitted. "I just... didn't want to accept it. I didn't want to know it. I wanted..." He was unable to say any more.

"The two of you are very close, right?" her gentle voice reached him. He nodded. "And you seem to have a very high level of empathy. If it can console you... it's not at all that uncommon for a person to believe in the other person's... delusions, especially if there's a strong bond between them."

He didn't know whether it did console him; however, he knew it sounded... sensible, understandable. "I just... wanted to support him," he uttered. "I couldn't question... what was real for him."

"You said it very nicely," she praised him. "For you are aware that for him it was real, aren't you? For him, it wasn't his imagination but reality that he believed in. It only proved how deep is your bond that you didn't brush his fears aside as a rubbish, like many people would have done in your place."

There was some comfort in what she said, all right, but at the same time... "But... in that case, have I not worsened his... illness... when I believed what he told me, while it was just a... delusion?" he asked anxiously. Such thought was unbearable.

"I don't think so," she answered with conviction. "His condition had been bad for a longer while. If you had acted differently, it could have escalated earlier... And could have ended much worse," she added in a softer voice.

He raised his head to look at her. Now it seemed she didn't tell him everything. "Worse?"

She averted her eyes. "Well, things being as they are, we have a sick person in the proper place... and everyone else safe and sound." she replied, and when he kept looking at her, she added, "A person suffering from paranoia can sometimes do irreparable harm. We must be happy that it didn't happen this time."

Involuntarily, Josh lifted one hand to his neck. "He believed... I turned against him," he said slowly. "That time when the police came... One of the policemen said something like that..." he tried to remember, "as if I was one of them. It made Alain... He was sure I... betrayed him... and..."

Tears came to his eyes again. Now he remembered, vaguely but certainly. Pain in his heart wouldn't go away, overriding that in his cheek, throat, and shoulder. Normally, Alain wouldn't have done that... he wouldn't have.

"Is he going to stay like that?" he asked and was amazed he could still speak, although in quivering voice.

"No. By no means he is. I can guarantee you," came the firm reply.

The clench on his chest loosened slightly. Josh looked upon the woman, wiping his eyes. "Really...?" he asked quietly, unable to suppress the feeling of hope that flooded into him. Recently, no-one could guarantee him anything; everyone was only giving him evasive answers.

She gave him that intent look again. "So, you know what is paranoia, don't you?" she asked.

"Actually... I know just a little bit. It's a persecution complex, like you said, Doctor, right? We haven't studied it yet... the mental illnesses..." How difficult it was to say that. "I just read something..." he confessed in an apologetic voice and then shook his head. "Please, explain it to me."

"In that case, let me first explain you what is a psychosis," Dr Sellier decided, putting her hands on the desk. "In short, it's a condition when a person's experience of reality is impaired, which results among all in hallucinations and delusions; you might have heard about them. Hallucinations are disorders of perception that involve the senses; thus, we distinguish visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, and tactile hallucinations. A person with visual hallucinations sees something that doesn't really exist, and a person with auditory hallucinations hears something that has no objective source. Colloquially, we say about 'hearing voices', you may be familiar with that phrase. Then, delusions are disorders of thinking, thoughts that are inconsistent with reality; a layman would say, 'fantasies, inventions'. A person with delusions _imagines_ things that doesn't exist although for themselves, just like you noticed, they are real. There are many kinds of delusions, I can't list all of them to you now, but in this case we are talking about persecutory delusions which means that a person feels and _believes_ that someone wants to hurt them. Is it too complicated?"

"No, Doctor," Josh shook his head, listening to that lecture with attention. "Does it mean Alain... has a psychosis, now?"

"Yes," she replied calmly. "I'm glad it's clear to you... It will make talking even easier for me," she added with a gentle smile.

He nodded.

"Now, as for paranoia... Actually, it's a very indefinite term, even in psychiatry, for nowadays it doesn't refer to a single, specific disease," Dr Sellier continued. "Generally speaking, it means such a way of thinking that a person suspects or believes they are in danger even though there is no objective threat. We encounter paranoia in many mental disea... disorders. The mildest of them, but also the most... persistent, is paranoid personality disorder, when a person shows the traits... a tendency to regard his environment in a way more or less threatening. People with this disorder have troubles trusting others, are under the constant impression that others take a negative attitude to them or want to abuse them, or don't treat them well."

"Oh, I think Alain has that," Josh replied involuntarily, listening to her closely.

Dr Sellier nodded with a focused expression. "Your information will be crucial, Joshua," she said and smiled again. "Yes, we're going to talk a lot... Back to the topic. Paranoid personality disorder is more a way of being than a disease itself, although it's not at all uncommon that a person with such personality occasionally - in crisis, in stressful situation, due to external factors - develops a psychotic episode that is usually short and resolves quickly. I don't want to promise you anything at this stage, but it may be that it is so in Mr Corail's case now, especially if you say that there are paranoid traits to his personality. The worse eventuality is delusional disorder, that features clear psychotic symptoms, in this case: already mentioned persecutory delusions. A person with a delusional disorder are fully convinced they are followed and monitored, and eavesdropped, or even that their life is in danger. Usually, it's a whole system of delusions, nearly a story, with many characters and threads."

"That sounds familiar, too..." Josh stated with dejection.

"However, delusional disorder is an illness of middle-aged people; it rarely develops in such a young person as Mr Corail," Dr Sellier continued. "Of course, there are exceptions, like always... Still, delusional disorder hardly creates a significant decline in person's functioning; those people do pretty well in their families and society, they go to work and so on, even though their delusions remain on more or less the same level. Delusional disorder is a long-term disease with occasional exacerbations. Let's assume it to be just one of the options in Mr Corail's case."

"What are the other options?" Josh asked in a quiet voice when she fell silent.

"The worst is, of course, schizophrenia that often develops as a paranoid syndrome that also manifest itself in a sense of threat. In schizophrenia, however, having delusions is just one of the symptoms because a patient almost always develops hallucinations, too - the previously mentioned disorders of perception - and usually hears voices, while the delusions themselves are... how to say it... bizarre. Mr Corail, if I'm correct, was convinced that his relatives wanted to seize his money and would stop at nothing in order to achieve it, right? Objectively speaking, such a story could really happen, couldn't it? However, in schizophrenia, the delusions are different, much more... improbable... impossible. A sick person believes, for example, that he or she is a God, or has a paranormal abilities, or feels that their body is being controlled or is influenced by a laser. Or that they are abducted by aliens. You see the difference, do you?"

Josh nodded slowly. "Alain never said anything of that kind..." he claimed. "Those... delusions of his... were, like you said, Doctor, probable. That he was being followed by someone, that his phone calls were eavesdropped on, that he was going to be killed. There was nothing paranormal about them," he decided firmly, which Dr Sellier greeted with a nod.

"Then, we're not going to assume it's certainly a schizophrenia in question, even though people usually believe that every person with hallucinations or delusions has it," she announced with some reserve. "Besides, it is uncommon that before falling ill a person with schizophrenia was fully functional and, colloquially speaking, normal. Schizophrenia is a disease that develops for years, even before the first episode of psychosis... People suffering from schizophrenia have been odd and withdrawn from the society for a longer while, displayed poor communication skills, often had learning or working difficulties, often suffered from depressive and anxiety symptoms."

Josh remained silent. Now he wasn't sure whether Alain didn't have that disease, after all... Psychiatry seemed to be quite a complex thing.

Dr Sellier apparently read his thought, for she said, "In Mr Corail's case, making a diagnosis will require some examinations and interviews, also with you; we'll spend required time on it. Now, however, the most important is to calm him and make his delusions disappeared; in other words, restore his sense of reality."

"How are you going to do that?"

"With medication."

"Medication? What kind of? Sedatives?"

Dr Sellier shook her head. "Sedatives only calm a person down but cannot influence the symptoms," she explained. "No, I'm talking about drugs that were once called neuroleptics, but nowadays we use the name 'antipsychotics'. Although we still don't know what causes a psychosis - or, at least, we don't know its all mechanisms yet - we know as much that hallucinations and delusions result from a brain dysfunction... or that in hallucinations and delusions a brain dysfunction _appears_. Suffice it to say, those drugs restore the brain function to normal, to a healthy level. They restore balance in the central nervous system. We know that a person is healthy... is cured when, forgive me this unceremonious phrase, they no longer get any funny ideas, just like it takes place during psychosis. If the medication works quickly - and I'm rather optimistic because of his young age and the fact he's never been given them before - Mr Corail should become free of delusions in a few days. I'm sure we will manage his agitation and aggression even before that."

Josh decided all that sounded quite good... unless there was a catch in it. "Then... Then, when Alain ceases having delusions, he'll be healthy?" he asked with hope and apprehension at the same time.

His heart nearly stopped when Dr Sellier shook her head. "He'll be cured from psychosis... for now. There is no guarantee he would have no relapse one day. However, now it is useless to speculate. As I said, first we have to conduct some examinations and get to know him better, with which you are going to help me. Only then I'll be able to make a diagnosis. Do not lose hope. I already said that it may as well be a single episode that would never recur, and Mr Corail would function perfectly normally, just like he did until now."

Josh sat in silence, processing all that. Simultaneously, he thought his ability to concentrate was back to normal... He was able to listen to Dr Sellier with interest and comprehension. And thinking felt easier.

"Is it really possible, Doctor?" he asked, needing to be assured, although she hadn't said anything to mislead him so far.

"It is," she nodded, "especially after what you've said about his personality: that he is distrustful and prone to suspicious other people. When a grave illness immobilized him at home, it could worsen his psychical condition. He couldn't leave, he didn't contact anyone... A layman would say, he had all too much time to imagine things. Maybe even those fantasies, those delusions, were a kind of retreat from reality that was so harsh at that time. He sank deeper and deeper in the imagined world until it became real for him. Some people, subconsciously, derive comfort from their delusions... a belief that they are special..."

Josh blinked. Comfort...? "But Alain was completely terrified...?" he asked in disbelief. No, he just couldn't understand that.

"That's why I said, 'subconsciously'," Dr Sellier replied. "Human mind is the most amazing thing existing... We still know very little about it, we can only guess... and, on the other hand, we can assume."

He mused over those words... as well as the previous ones. And some other thing occurred to him, "Earlier, in winter, something happened that could contribute to this situation," he confessed in a quiet voice. "It was before his falling ill with pneumonia... In February, we had a trip... And during it he thought I... I'd fallen in love with another person," he said somewhat embarrassed. "But he didn't ask about it; he only fretted about it alone. That's how he is: he keeps his thoughts to himself and, when he suspects something, he wouldn't share it with me," he added as if he wanted to find some excuse... as if it could alleviate his feeling of guilt at the thought that his admiration for Chloe might have caused Alain's disease.

"You may be right," Dr Sellier agreed and then seemed thoughtful. "We haven't much time left, I have a meeting soon," she said, glancing at her watch, "but I would like to ask you about one more thing that has just occurred to me."

He looked at her curiously. "Ask, then."

She clasped her hands and put her chin on them. "You said you've known each other... you've been together for how long?"

Warmth spread across his chest, like always whenever he recollected those times. "We went to high school together... We became quite close when I was sixteen... Alain was nineteen. But... nothing happened then. I mean... Ugh, how can I say it..." How could he summarize that? "I was... in love and cared deeply about him... and we almost did... well, things looked pretty well, but then he withdrew and disappeared..." He realized his narration was terrible but couldn't help it; he could only hope he would be understood. "Later, he told me he'd become scared he'd made something wrong with me and thus he'd run away... We only met each other again after three years... the last summer. At first, he was very... He was very aggressive towards me, accused me... that I had destroyed his life, and that because of me he couldn't be normal... But, in the end, everything shaped well. And we've been together ever since," he finished somewhat awkwardly.

Dr Sellier was giving him a penetrating look from behind her glasses. "Then, you may assume that in your relationship there were many conflicting feelings and messages, on his part? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound this way," she called quickly, seeing his expression.

"But you were right, Doctor," Josh agreed, albeit reluctantly. "Loftily speaking, there was love and hate. On his part," he added. ' _I_ was hopelessly in love right from the start.' "But what does it have to do with anything?"

"I ask because, when you told me about his delusions of being persecuted by his relatives... you mentioned that they, among other things, had wanted to prove him being _abnormal_... referring to his homosexuality," she pointed.

"Actually, Alain is bisexual," Josh muttered.

Dr Sellier ignored it. "I wonder whether we can see some unconscious feeling of guilt in that... If the two of you became close when you were only sixteen... maybe he still blames himself for having acted that way towards you, an under-age person...?" she asked rhetorically. "I'm not judging anyone, don't worry; I just say how human mind works. Maybe all that persecutory delusion expressed his need to receive punishment for that? And maybe, when you said that earlier, in winter, he had been convinced you'd became interested in someone else... Maybe now he came to the conclusion he had influenced your life in a way he shouldn't have?"

"Do you think it's possible?" Himself, Josh had never considered such option.

She straightened in the chair. "Everything is possible when it's human mind in question," she replied in a wise tone. "But those are just speculations... like almost everything in psychiatry," she added ironically.

Josh, however, was still reflecting on her words. "In winter... He suspected me to be in love with a _woman_. Maybe... maybe he really felt guilty... maybe he thought that, back in high school, he'd turned my head, and so I'd 'changed my mind' and started to go for guys..." he said slowly. "Yes, I can remember him saying something of that kind last year, when we talked about those events and he explained his leaving..." he added with more certainty. "Moron," he decided.

A stifled noise resembling snorting came from Dr Sellier, but, when Josh looked upon her, her expression was as serious as before. "There is still another option: maybe he has a problem with accepting his sexuality," she suggested. "Such denial can also result in violent reactions, including a psychosis."

"Actually, he had that problem before already... Yes, it's so like him," Josh agreed, this time with no reluctance. "Going psychotic because he fu... because he slept with another guy," he decided with some anger that wasn't directed at anyone in particular. "I suppose you find my words terrible, Doctor?"

She shook her head. "I don't," she replied with a smile.

Josh ran his hand through his hair. "You know, I often don't know at all how his mind works and what he thinks of. I really don't," he admitted.

Dr Sellier was still giving him a warm look. "But it doesn't seem to bother you that much, normally...?"

He shook his head. Suddenly, his throat clenched, and it was only after a moment he was able to speak again. "Doctor..." he said with his gaze down; he didn't dare to look her in the eye. "You don't think that... that there is by nature more aggression... more violence in homosexual relationships... do you?"

"I've never thought that," she answered calmly, and there was an absolute conviction to her words. "And, if it reassures you, scientific research also deny such claims. Only someone of a narrow mind can propound such conclusion and make such judgement."

He nodded.

"But now I really have to say you goodbye," she announced, getting up and taking a few folders from the desk. "I had a very nice conversation with you."

"It's I who should say that," Josh replied, rising as well. "Thank you, Doctor... Talking with you... helped a lot," he added, suddenly realizing it.

"I'm really glad. Come tomorrow, please. The visiting time is from two o'clock, but..." She glanced into her diary. "If it fits you, I'll be able to spare you one hour at one p.m. I truly want to speak with you again, for Mr Corail's sake..."

"Of course, I'm at your disposal, Doctor... I'll be here at one p.m.," Josh declared.

"Good." She marked that in the book and then stared at him again, this time with concern. "But tell me if you're going to be all right."

He looked her in the eye. "The emergency doctor left me with a painkiller prescription," he replied.

"That's not what I ask about... Do you have anyone to take care of you?" sha asked directly.

"My neighbour promised to stop by."

"That's good. It's very important to not be left alone."

"I could..." it occurred to him, "I could call my therapist, too... My former therapist."

"That's a very good idea," she agreed. "In that case, see you tomorrow," she said, opening the door and stretching her hand. "I'll ask the nurse to see you off."

"Goodbye, Doctor," he said, leaving on the corridor.

She nodded and left in another direction, while Josh made his way to the exit. However, as he moved through the ward, he was amazed to see it was filled with people. Earlier, when he'd just come here, the place had been so desolated... but now, in numerous armchairs the patients and the staff members were sitting, watching television, playing cards and talking. Some were reading newspapers; other were painting with watercolours by the tables. On the glassed balcony, there was a gym bike, and one of the patients was eagerly training on it... The ward seemed full of life, even if it was a slightly different life than outside the hospital.

Still, Alain was nowhere to be seen. Josh wondered where the room he was being kept in could be situated... but now he wasn't sure at all whether he really wanted to see him... today. He lifted one hand to his sore throat and swallowed cautiously. No, not today... But tomorrow... Tomorrow, he would surely do.

* * *

 _Ayreon, "The Truth Is In Here"_


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**  
 _ **(niech będzie patronem zagubionych dusz)**_

* * *

Josh returned home, using the public transport; he was reluctant to spend someone else's money on a taxi, especially once he realized that there was a convenient metro line running near the hospital, and he had a monthly pass, after all. Besides, he felt quite okay, and the train was almost empty at that time of day, so he secured a seat for himself without trouble. On his journey, he mused over what he'd just learned. Shock caused by the fact Alain was... mentally ill, had been eased by the conversation with Dr Sellier. Josh thought how terribly he would have felt if he'd just been put before that knowledge without a possibility to discuss it with anyone... especially with a person who knew her stuff. Yes, had it been not for Dr Sellier, he would have felt incomparably more down, now... How had she said? 'Do not lose hope.' Well, he couldn't do otherwise...

Then, Alain was ill. It was a bitter and somewhat frightening realization... but, on the other hand, it explained his recent behaviour, and it was better to know the reasons than stay ignorant. Simultaneously, he couldn't really shake the feeling of guilt that he'd caused that illness himself - with his actions. It hurt. He should have been more attentive; he should have devoted more time to Alain, instead of studying all the time... Although the doctor hadn't said it outright, the message of the conversation was clear: Alain had developed that... psychosis because he'd stayed more or less alone at home, cut off from the external world. Yes, Josh had really failed at that one... Not only had he brought about that calamity himself, but also suspected Alain of terrible things in the first place, focusing on his own problems that now seemed completely insignificant. He was pathetic and...

He blinked, remembering he'd thought about calling Mr Ageais. Apparently, there was one benefit from the therapy: phrase 'I'm pathetic' automatically brought the therapist to his mind, along with - what was more important - wise things he'd learned from the man. Now, however, he clearly realized he had a long way to go before he managed to 'straighten' all those erroneous thinking patterns he still displayed... And, yes, he really needed the experienced therapist's point of view now, that support he couldn't receive from anyone else... He hoped that Mr Ageais would have time for him.

The thought of having time distressed him a bit, and it took him a while to remember his classes were about to end... and the next week meant the beginning of final exams of the second year. His bad mood got even worse; the very idea of going to solve some test seemed completely off now. He wouldn't manage to focus, not at all... But what were his other options? Could the excuse that his... partner was gravely ill and stayed in the hospital be accepted? Did anyone care about that enough to let him sit for the exams later? Frankly, he doubted it... The thought of repeating a year was terribly depressing... But, ah, he would think about it later. His studies lost their significance when it was Alain's welfare in question... Too bad he hadn't told it himself two months ago...

Alain was ill. No matter how much Josh blamed himself, that fact wouldn't change. There was a single comfort in that, though. Josh swallowed, adjusting his scarf. How Alain had behaved towards him... last night... He hadn't done so out of hatred. He simply... hadn't realized his actions. Yes, it was that: Alain hadn't realized his actions. He'd had no sense of reality. He'd suffered from delusions... disorders of thinking. He'd imagined things that had provoked him into such behaviour. If he'd been sound... if his mind had worked normally... he would have never done something like that; it was obvious. Josh loved him too much to bear a grudge against him... Especially that nothing had really happened. Those light bruises would heal in no time... and Josh would do anything to forget about what had occurred. Actually, he hardly remembered the event itself, so it would come even easier. Now that was a good plan.

He got off on his station, glad he'd managed to come to positive conclusions in one matter, at least. Climbing the stairs to the fourth floor was a pain... On his way, he wondered whether he should drop in on Mrs Bonnet but eventually decided not to. He didn't want to show himself to her in such condition; it could upset her too much. For all her assurance and optimistic attitude, he doubted her to have accepted the issue of same-sex relationships just like that. On top of that, if she learned - and saw - what Alain had done to him, especially after all Josh's earlier assurance on their love, she would surely feel uncomfortable. He couldn't do it to her. Maybe it was a cowardice on his part... or maybe some need to protect... himself, Alain, and others of their kind. Thus, he passed the door to her flat, trying to walk silently. When he finally reached his own, his head was thumping, and he leaned against the railing for a moment, to overcome the impression that the world was spinning.

He made himself some tea and, waiting for it to cool down, sat by the table in the living-room. How strange it felt to be here without Alain... It was so hard to believe that only yesterday they would sit in the same place, together, even though the situation had already been bad. Now it was so empty here... He rested his forehead on the table and closed his eyes. He was too tired to start another litany of self-accusations or complaints on the fate. He could surely experience more sadness... and many bad days... but now he just wanted to rest...

He was waked up by a ringing. He blinked for a moment before he understood it was Alain's cell phone. Of course, Alain hadn't had it with him when being taken to hospital... The unnerving sound wouldn't stop, so he got up - slightly stiff, he must have slept quite long - and started to search for its source. He found it in the bedroom, on the chest of drawers. At first, he just stand there undecidedly, holding the vibrating phone in his hand, and then picked up, lifting it to his ear.

"Finally! Why do I always have to wait ages before you bother to answer?" an irritated woman's voice was to be heard. "You know how important that matter is for me! Do you really need to make me a trouble?! I told you many times..."

Josh listened to that spell of aggression that wasn't directed at him, almost paralysed... unable to react. It took him a while to realize that the line fell silent.

"Alain...? Are you there? Are you listening to me? Hello?" he heard, and now the voice was more hesitant than annoyed.

"I... Sorry..." he uttered.

"What? Who's speaking?! I want to talk to Alain!"

"Alain can't talk right now..." he said cautiously.

"He can't talk!" the woman snorted. "He can't talk with his own mother! Oh God, how terrible son I have! And who are you?"

Josh gulped. He'd never expected he would speak with Alain's mother. What should he say now? He had to pull himself together, although he felt as if his brain had yet to wake up.

"I'm Alain's friend..." he said quietly, squeezing the phone.

"Alain has no friends," came the answer that was like a blow and made him speechless. "Don't play with me and give him the phone."

"Alain is in hospital... Mrs Corail," he decided she should know that, and besides it was some explanation.

"What?!" she exclaimed, but it was futile to search for any concern in her tone. "In hospital? What has that hooligan done again? Got into fight with someone stronger? Then, it serves him right. He's just like his father... Even if he's not his real son."

Josh listened to it, feeling more and more angry, which animated him, at least. "Do you really not care about what happened to him?!" he could no longer check himself and shouted into the phone.

"Of course I care," Mrs Corail replied at once; if anything, that revolting grudge disappeared from her voice. "I'm his mother," she muttered. "But I know that he's tougher than your average boy, so he's going to recover, no matter what. If he's in hospital, then there's no need to worry. If you'd said he's on the cemetery, it would've meant the matter was serious."

Josh fell speechless again.

"Then, I really can't talk with him?" She sighed. "In that case, tell him to contact me when he's able to. Ah... I might as well start believing in fairy-tales," she sighed again with irritation. "I'll have to call him myself, again. Well, let's hope we won't hear each other again, Alain's friend."

"Mrs Corail...! Wait a moment, please..." Josh decided to use the opportunity, although he'd rather end this dreadful conversation. "Is that matter... Is it about that inheritance?" he blurted.

"What? Inheritance?" now her voice was surprised. "No, it's about... Wait, I'm not talking about it with a stranger."

"Mrs Corail..." he didn't want to give up. "What about those relatives that wanted to have the court's decision revoked...?"

"What relatives? There's no relatives. Alain got that inheritance because _there was no_ other relatives," she said. "What has he deluded now?" she threw annoyed.

"Is it... Is it true?" he asked, clasping the phone with his both hands.

"Lilian Corail never lies, remember that," she stated flatly, although she didn't seem angry with him. "And... Tell Alain to recover quickly."

She rang off. Josh moved the phone from his ear and stared at the display, trying to calm down. His heart was pounding like mad... Well, there was one good thing about that: he'd waked up for good. On one hand, he was totally furious, and had Mrs Corail appeared before him now, he would surely yelled at her. How a mother could treat her own child like that? He couldn't just grasp it... and, simultaneously, he no longer wondered why Alain was so reluctant to deal with his family... Maybe even - Josh thought with a sudden insight and clearly being influenced by Dr Sellier and her bright mind - that reluctance was a reason why his delusions included 'relatives', even if non-existent? He had to ask Doctor about it tomorrow...

On the other hand, he was under the impression that Mrs Corail... could know Alain better than he. And maybe she did care, even though that concern seemed pretty much veiled...? Well, as far as he knew, no-one had ever had it easy back there, at Alain's home... Still, she could have shown some sympathy. She didn't need to board a train right away and come all the way to Paris, for God's sake! She could at least appear worried, ask what had happened, and all... The question was, had she asked, would Josh have told her that Alain was in psychiatric hospital... He realized he'd rather not to, not at all... so he'd benefited, in a way, from her evident egoism, even though the thought was bitter.

Still holding the phone, he almost unconsciously opened the 'received calls' folder and browsed through it, and then clenched his jaw. The only person who had called Alain during last two months was his mother. Apparently, in his hand was, there was the best proof that everything Alain had said and believed in, was a figment of his mind, indeed. It was a relief... although, at the same time, it filled Josh with some unpleasant sensation. Had... Had the police not come to take Alain to hospital... how long actually would have Josh remained convinced about their lives being in danger? Maybe as long as he'd finally gone mad himself... He would have sat here with Alain, not leaving the place and jumping at the slightest noise... He shuddered. Dr Sellier had said the things might have been much worse... and now he could finally understand it. He was really happy that Alain was in the right place... receiving the treatment. He would surely get better in a few days. And he would come back home. Yes, everything was going to be just fine.

The ringing of the bell broke his reverie. At first, he thought angrily that they just wouldn't leave him alone... and then he remembered he had asked Pierre Roland to visit him, himself. Apparently, the journalist had managed to leave the office early... Actually, Josh was glad; he could talk to him with more clear mind than last night or even this morning...

Having opened the door, however, he was sadly disappointed upon seeing Francis Vidal.

"You're home! I'm so glad to see you! I've been worrying about you whole day and whole night!" the neighbour flooded him with words and appeared eager to hug him any moment, so Josh took a step back.

"When are you going to leave me alone?" he threw annoyed.

However, he was surprised to realize that he no longer felt that anger he'd felt only yesterday. Maybe it happened due to Pierre's morning comment, that made the musician more worthy of pity than hatred... or maybe it was quite hard to hate someone who looked the very picture of misery and had been beaten by you own boyfriend...? In any case, he was under the impression that he could manage Francis himself, without no-one else's help.

"Don't say that!" Francis seemed hurt by his remark. "I really worried about you!"

"If I remember correctly, only yesterday you told me you couldn't stand me," Josh pointed out, coming to the conclusion that Pierre had been right: this man was really disturbed.

"Actually, it's your mate that I can't stand," Francis corrected, his face twisting. "But I'm going to make him pay, no worry. He's going straight to jail for such an assault," he added with satisfaction, pointing at his face, that, in comparison, made Josh's own able to apply for Mister Paris title. "I'm going to charge him!" he announced triumphantly.

"If you do it," Josh replied right away, "be prepared for getting in the same cell, for _you_ 're going to jail for assaulting _me_. You may be sure I'm not going to hesitate, only tell in details about all our recent encounters and how you've violated my personal immunity. I'm also of the opinion the court will see the yesterday event as an attempt of intrusion and find Alain's action justified since you wouldn't leave on your own volition... Believe me, I'm pretty good at telling stories, and very convincing, too. Will you take a chance?"

Francis went pale. "In the same cell...?" he uttered.

"Why, since you already know each other, they wouldn't separate you. You really didn't know about that practice?" Josh asked with fake astonishment.

Francis fell silent and spoke again only after a moment, "But he's battered you as well! You don't care? You're going to let it pass like that?" he called, waving at Josh's face. "Maybe you like it, no?"

Josh felt a pang in his chest but replied calmly, "What happens between Alain and me is our private matter."

Francis' face twisted with repulsion. 'Now he surely considers me as a masochist,' Josh decided but thought there were worse things in the world than that. Francis could imagine whatever he pleased, if only he let him alone... Unless he came to the conclusion that he felt like battering Josh himself, since Josh liked that, oh God...!

Francis, however, after a moment of meaningful silence, said, "You're really fucked up," and there was an obvious disgust in his tone.

Josh said nothing to persuade him otherwise.

"Why do you let him believe that?" Pierre's voice rang in the corridor; the man was climbing to the fourth floor, so quietly they hadn't heard him until now.

Upon seeing him, Francis clearly lost his countenance - and he was right to do so, for the next moment the journalist turned to him and spoke in a critical manner, "I think I told you not to hang around here...? How many times do you need to hear that? Besides, he is right. You've made a nuisance of yourself and harassed him, I'm going to be the first to testify against you if needed, so you'd better stay low and never stick your neck out." He waved his finger at the man. "By any case, don't you have any exams to learn for? I haven't heard you playing either, for a longer while... hmm? Now, get lost."

"Everyone's against me!" Francis exclaimed in a tearful voice and went back to himself, shutting the door.

"You need to be firm with such types, that's the key," Pierre stated. "But I think you've already noticed that."

Josh nodded and invited the man inside, then put the water to boil in order to make some tea. He searched the cupboards but found only some biscuits that were still edible... Pouring them out on the plate, he thought he should have made some shopping on his way home but hadn't even thought of it. Typical.

"You look much better," the journalist commented when Josh returned from the kitchen with that poor treat. "How did it go? Any progress?" he asked in a quite friendly manner, reaching for the tea.

"I spoke with a doctor," Josh sat down by the table. "With the doctor who's... in charge of Alain," he added in a lower voice. "They didn't let me see him."

"But you've got some information...?"

Josh nodded. "He should get better soon..." he said and fell silent. He realized Dr Sellier hadn't told him what would happen next... once Alain did get better.

"That sounds good," Pierre decided, breaking his reverie.

"I'm going to visit there tomorrow, too, so I'll probably learn more... Ah, I have your money." Josh went to the hall and took the folded note out of the jacket. "I returned with metro," he added, anticipating the questions. "Like you said, I feel much better. Fresh air helped me a lot... although it was just a walk from the station."

Pierre stared at the money, then nodded and put the note into his wallet. Apparently, he wasn't a man to make a fuss over everything... and that was how Josh had seen him before, actually.

For a moment, they sat in silence, drinking tea, but then Josh spoke again, "I'm sorry I can't treat you to anything else."

The journalist gave him an astonished look and then waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. I've just eaten outside," he assured him. "But did _you_ eat anything?"

"No, I mostly slept..." Josh replied truthfully. "I'm going to prepare myself a dinner, soon."

"I'm not busy tonight, I can help you with groceries and all," the journalist offered in a casual voice.

Josh observed him for a while, then put a teaspoon into the empty glass and moved it aside. "Mr Roland... why are you helping me?" he repeated his question from last morning, hoping to get a more concrete answer this time. "I'll be frank: I didn't consider you as someone who cares a lot about others. To tell the truth, you seemed to me as a person who regarded his neighbours as necessary evil. That's why I'm surprised... I'd like to know... but, of course, I'm not going to press you. You probably have your issues that you don't need to reveal if you don't like to."

The journalist averted his eyes, toying with a glass for a moment. "I think it's because... you reminded me of my little brother," he said finally, and the answer surprised Josh. "Though... it's not like that." He shook his head. "It's not that you look like him or anything... quite the contrary. I just..." He ran one hand through his hair. "It's quite a displeasing story that originates from my childhood. I have three brothers, Paul was the youngest. As far as I can remember, he would always get into trouble, as a child already, and once he grow up, it didn't change... No, to the contrary, his problems were just getting worse. We were really sick with it at home... so much we shunned him, didn't want to associate with him, my brothers and I. The three of us made quite a brilliant career and achieved everything with our own power and abilities. Paul was a thorn in our side. We were fed up with him doing nothing to change his behaviour... to pull himself together. We were taught to be responsible for ourselves and our actions. Well, it is sensible and reasonable, many people think this way..."

He paused for a while, before going on, "We were sure he was doing it on purpose... Well, at least consciously. Now that I think about that, I'm almost sure he wasn't entirely sound... and had difficulties, wasn't as gifted as the three of us, couldn't deal with situations that most people pass through unharmed. But at our home such things were a taboo. Our father... wouldn't stand even a suggestion that someone in his family might have such problems. Everyone had to be healthy and strong. And perfect," he said bitterly. "Paul couldn't bear with it, couldn't cope with his problems and new adversities, only got deeper and deeper... and, in the end, committed suicide."

Josh twitched; he hadn't expected that.

Pierre stared at his hands on the tablecloth and then continued, "It happened some years ago... but I'm still unable to think about it without a feeling of shame. I realized it was us who'd brought it about: father, Pascal, Patrice, and I, with our attitude... That we should have tried to help Paul, instead of turning our backs on him. I don't know how my brothers received it... Maybe they think that it was the right thing to happen. We don't even stay in contact with each other, each of us went his own way. You may imagine how our home looked like... But that time no-one really wondered about it. The upbringing we got, seemed normal to us. And every one just regarded our father as a role model, may he rest in peace." He fell silent, his lips curved in a mockery.

He resumed talking after a moment of reflection. "Well, for my part, I changed my way of thinking, a bit... my attitude. People should help each other more... help especially those around... so that no-one were left with their problems... Unfortunately, our society is horribly duplicitous. People often seem your friend, appear interested, but when you're in a really hard spot, when you really need help, they would leave you alone, would prefer to keep away in order not to get into trouble. I hate such hypocrisy. That's why, like you've said, I consider the neighbours as necessary evil, for there's hardly anything behind their curiosity, in most cases. They would butt in your life, try to arrange it... but when you really need their support, then you will see there's no-one there."

Involuntarily, Josh thought of Mrs Bonnet, who hadn't looked in on him since yesterday... Maybe it was indeed so, since he'd been given neighbourhood aid by a person he wouldn't have even suspected to... But no, he was unfair; he had been avoiding Mrs Bonnet himself and was glad he hadn't run into her.

He focused his eyes on the man. "I'm sorry about your brother," he spoke. "But I don't think you should blame yourself for his death. As you said, you didn't realize... neither you nor your brothers that something was wrong. You behaved accordingly to what you'd been taught. It's a hard thing to change one's own view, way of thinking... But you succeeded in it later. And I am very grateful for your help," he said with emphasis.

Pierre waved his hand. "You don't seem to have experienced too much kindness in your life, either, do you...?" he asked, looking at him askance.

Josh wondered about that but didn't find the answer. "In any case, I'm a person who always tries to manage on his own... And I find it difficult to ask for help," he replied finally. "It's you who informed the police that here... that Alain needed... specialist help, right?" he asked. "And that's why the policemen were accompanied by a doctor...?"

The journalist nodded. "They sent an ambulance; the police was only to secure the place. And thanks God they were here! It needed four men to... to pull him away and immobilize. It was only then that the doctor could give him a shot, but it still took some time before he calmed down, so they had to keep him down. Meanwhile, the doctor could tend to you.

Josh remembered nothing of that - and hoped it would remain this way. It was something else that piqued his interest. "How did you know...? How did you guessed?" he asked quietly. "You saw Alain only for a short moment, on the stairs... Even I didn't realized that... he needed help..." He lowered his head.

"Sometimes an outsider can have a better view than people involved," Pierre replied with a truism. "I just put together what I'd learned from others... from Francis, Amelia Bonner... that he hadn't left home for a longer while, hadn't spoken to anyone... and then, on the staircase, he started to shout death threats, out of the blue... A sane person just doesn't behave like that... and before, I hadn't consider him a madman, he'd been perfectly normal, hadn't he?"

"Mrs Bonnet..." Josh muttered, thinking of the neighbour again. "How am I going to explain that to her... I bet she was shocked... and she was even so nice to us..." He really should prepare himself properly for a conversation with the older lady.

"You'll have to postpone that explanation a bit," the journalist's matter-of-fact voice interrupted with his plans. "And, besides, I'm not sure whether it's a good idea to talk with her about it, to begin with."

"Why?" Josh looked on him.

"Mrs Bonnet is in hospital," Pierre answered cheerlessly.

"In hospital..." Josh repeated in a whisper. "What...?"

The man averted his eyes again; for some reason, he seemed displeased. "As you said, she was very shaken by what had happened here..." he replied. "I don't know the details, but it's something neurological."

Stupefied, Josh stared at him for a longer while before lowering his head. The feeling of guilt hit him hard. The list of Alain's vic... of Alain's disease's victims stretched all the time. And not so long ago he'd told himself that, with Alain being cured, he shouldn't really bother, for nothing bad had happened.

"I think we should move out from here," he muttered.

"Why?" Pierre asked in astonishment.

"Francis was beaten... Mrs Bonnet is in hospital... It wouldn't have occurred if we hadn't lived here."

"What are you talking about? Such things happen."

"I'd rather they didn't happen because of me," Josh drawled.

"Don't talk nonsense," the journalist was of another opinion, apparently. "Francis asked for a hiding himself. Maybe it will teach him to think about his behaviour a bit more... or not," he decided cuttingly. "As for Mrs Bonnet... You can't feel responsible for that. We don't live in a void, only among other people. What we do always affects others, that's inevitable... If you can't accept it, you can always move on a desert island or in the rain forest," he pointed out. "Or shut yourself home and never leave again. Although, as we know from an example, it may end badly, too," he added ironically. "You really shouldn't reprove himself. I'm sure it's nothing severe, and she will soon come back to torment us with her neighbourly friendliness..."

Josh nodded but didn't feel particularly comforted. "Mr Roland, thank you for your help again," he said, never taking his eyes off the table, "but I'm tired... and I had better get some rest..."

"Why do I have a feeling I've just been thrown out?" Pierre asked sneeringly. Josh clutched his fingers on the tablecloth and said nothing. "It's all right... Just tell me if you need me to make you some shopping. I'm going out in the evening, so I can visit a supermarket."

Josh shook his head. Pierre waited in silence but, receiving no other reaction, he said, "I saw your fridge is almost empty. I'm going to get you some groceries and leave them by the door. It's up to you whether you take them or let them rot."

Now Josh, somewhat fearfully, looked up at him. "I can't-" he started, but the journalist raised one hand to stop his objection.

"You have to take care of yourself, in order to recover quickly. You've much on your head, don't you? You won't help anyone if you collapse and get yourself in hospital, too. I have a morning shift tomorrow, so I can't prepare you a breakfast," he announced and seemed to be serious about that.

Josh opened his mouth to reply... and shut it again, realizing the man was quite right. And that he was being pathetic, making himself a martyr and sulking like that. He was an adult man; he shouldn't really make a fool of himself before another person...

"Than... If you would be so kind... I'll give you money," he said and reached for the wallet. Distractedly, he noticed it was almost empty. Right, it was the end of the month... He would get his stipend no sooner than the next week.

"We'll calculate that later," Pierre said, getting up; it could be he'd noticed Josh's confusion. "Lock the door behind me," he requested, making his way to the hall. "Francis has been taken care of, and I think you shouldn't bother yourself about him, but I'd rather he didn't annoy you again... especially that, like you said, you need to rest. It's still possible that he comes here and try to convince you that he's your best friend, God save us. Hmm, maybe I should drop in and have a brief talk with him, after all..."

Josh saw the neighbour to the front door and, when alone again, lay down in the bedroom, pretty tired. However, if he thought he would fall asleep right away, he was mistaken. Apparently, he'd been sleeping enough today, and his organism wasn't too exhausted... Thus, he was only lying, his eyes closed, and his mind was revolving - of course - around the current situation. The conversation with Dr Sellier had calmed him a bit and even lifted his spirit, earlier, but now he felt dejected again. It was like he'd just told Pierre: staying here, Alain and he had inconvenienced other people - and all that had happened because he hadn't realized Alain's condition. Now, what had he been studying that psychology for, if he couldn't even see that there was something wrong with his beloved person's psyche? He was not cut for it, not at all...

'You're not sitting here as a psychologist but a family member,' he remembered Doctor's unexpected words... And Mr Ageais would undoubtedly remind him that psychopathology was on curriculum of the third year and no sooner, so why should he know? Right, he planned to call the therapist and arrange a meeting... As for the third year... The thought of upcoming exams returned to him... but it was still very unpleasant, so he pushed it away. He still had a few days to make his decision... And he would contact Mr Ageais tomorrow; there was a phone box by the metro station. He still had some coins in the wallet; it should be enough for a call...

He hoped he would be able to see Alain tomorrow... although he had to admit that meeting scared him, a bit. How would Alain react upon seeing him? Would he be still angry with him? Would he still accuse him of... having betrayed him? Josh's heart clenched. Or maybe, until then, his delusion would already have receded and he would be himself again? Dr Sellier had said that the medication should work quickly, although Josh didn't know what 'quickly' meant in this case... She might have mentioned a few days, if he remembered correctly... He returned to that conversation. Doctor had said that the diagnosis was still open, that they could only talk about a psychosis... Was Alain mentally ill? Not just now, but in general? Chronically? Did he have some of those conditions Doctor had mentioned? What was that... Schizophrenia... and persecutory disorder... No, it was delusional, delusional disorder. Josh had heard something about schizophrenia, but he knew nothing really. He realized he knew pathetically little about mental illnesses... excluding, of course, depression... but it was more a practical knowledge than theoretical. Well, it seemed he should head for the library and do some reading tomorrow; he would only benefit from it. Probably. In any case, Dr Sellier would no longer be forced to explain every little thing to him... although her explanations were clear and completely understandable, and Josh listened to them almost with pleasure.

He tried to remember what it was he did know about schizophrenia... It might be genetic. Was anyone in Alain's family sick with it...? He had no idea; they'd never spoken about Alain's family... and after his recent talk with Mrs Corail he no longer wondered about that. However, he reluctantly admitted that only she could tell him more on this topic, for Alain didn't remember his real father... But Mrs Lilian had made such a bad impression on him that he didn't want to have anything to do with her, never. In just a few minutes, she'd managed to tell so many unpleasant things about Alain that Josh hadn't heard from all other people for his whole life. One might imagine she hated her son... and it was what Josh just couldn't comprehend. Parents should support their children, not criticize them on any occasion. Maybe it was the reason why Alain had so low self-confidence...? And couldn't trust anyone...? If he'd only heard about being... a hooligan... and that it'd served him right whenever he'd got himself into troubles...? No child should hear such things from their parents. Josh thought he disliked Mrs Lilian more and more with every passing moment.

No, it was better to stop thinking of her, for, doing so, he would only worsen his mood, that was bad enough already. He would have to mention her call to Alain... but not now; first, Alain had to recover. He started to wonder about the diagnosis again and finally decided it was no use. He had to trust Dr Sellier and her expertise, even if himself he wanted everything to be clear right away, to be solved quickly. It was that terrible tendency of his: to search for a way out of the pinch. Sure, often it was useful, but in times like now, when he couldn't influence the events, it was only a pain and caused him needless torment.

But what he could influence, then...? Surely, there must be things that depended solely on him. Yes, Pierre was right; he should take care about himself, in the first place, and get his strength back. And - it was his own opinion now - tend to his life in a sensible manner. Alain was in hospital, getting specialist care, while Josh should restore his daily life; staying in bed and pitying himself wouldn't change a thing. Getting rest was fine - especially after being injured like that - but his condition wasn't so serious as to immobilize him at home. Tomorrow, he would call Mr Ageais, then he would go to the hospital to see Alain and talk with Dr Sellier, and in the afternoon he could visit the university in order to read a bit. In the meantime, he should decide on what to do about the exams... Although reluctant to do so, he forced himself to reflect on it now. He should complete the year; he'd managed to submit all requested papers, and he had satisfactory attendance... Actually, now he realized he should to anything to have it past him. It would be an insufferable thing if, after all that - spending the days at the university, over the books and essays to such the extent that he'd driven Alain in sickness - he had to repeat the year. His studying had brought along many bad things so far; now there should be some profit, too. He couldn't give up; he would be really pathetic if he did so.

His mood improved, all right - and he hoped it would stay like this for a longer while. Since yesterday, it'd been swinging quite much... Well, he told himself optimistically, swinging mood meant that it wasn't bad all the time. He should preserve that hope, so that he wouldn't fall into despair and depression at every problem. Things couldn't possibly be worse than they already were, and thus the only direction now was upwards, towards the better. He should think like this.

Pierre rang the bell quite soon - or so it seemed to him - to hand him a big shopping bag.

"The bill is inside," he said. "You can pay me back later."

"Thank you," Josh replied, smiling shyly. "Thank you for what you said before. I feel much better. And I think I'll manage on my own."

"Fine," Pierre nodded; he seemed satisfied. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thank you... Ah, Mr Roland..." he remembered it now. "Do you know in which hospital is Mrs Bonnet staying?"

"I don't, but it's not a problem to get know. I'll slip the information under the door, all right?" he offered.

"Thank you," Josh said once again. "I'm really grateful and-"

"It's enough," Pierre lifted one hand. "Sleep well. Good night!" he called and ran up to his fifth floor.

Josh looked inside the bag... and, upon seeing bread, realized he was hungry - he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and now it was already evening... He decided it was a good sign, and made his way to the kitchen to prepare himself a supper. Later, sitting on the couch and tucking in a baguette with cheese and tomato, he thought eating alone in an empty flat is no fun... But, he remembered right away, he should focus and do anything so that Alain could return here as soon as possible.

And when Alain returned, everything would be all right again.

* * *

 _Let him become a patron of lost souls – Daab, "Do plasticka"  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**  
 _ **(lohdutan sua, kun sairastut ja pelkäät kuolemaa)**_

* * *

The next day, upon waking up, Josh's mood was still as good as it was in the evening... Well, at the very least, not particularly bad; he had no reasons to be happy, after all. Physically, he felt better, too, and he stopped paying attention to pain; his shoulder would ache only when moving the left arm, and other injuries seemed to be healing fast. After a hearty breakfast, he finally had a good bath - to refresh both his body and soul - coming to the conclusion his face was looking better. He cooked a dinner and cleaned up the flat, a bit; then started to think what he should do next. It was only ten o'clock, and he shouldn't show up in the hospital until one p.m., for the meeting with Dr Sellier... In the end, he decided to visit the dean's office and inquire about the exams... make sure he was allowed take them, in the first place - just in case, for you never knew with the studies. In the hall, he found the paper slid under his door; Pierre had kept his promise and provided him with the information about Mrs Bonnet's place... Yet, Josh didn't feel strong enough to pay the older lady a visit. Maybe tomorrow...

However, in the dean's secretary's office - miraculously, he didn't even need to queue up - he was welcomed by an unpleasant surprise. It appeared that his attendance during some courses wasn't satisfactory and, if he didn't provided the associate dean with a written statement explaining exhaustively the reasons of his absence - and, if it was the illness in question, he should also enclose a doctor's note - he would have to arrange the matter individually with the professors. The woman behind the desk went as far as making the comment that the fact he was getting the stipend shouldn't make him neglect his studies, quite the contrary, and that he should remember he was representing a school with great traditions; saying that, she looked meaningfully at his face. 'What do you know about me?' Josh wanted to ask but gave up; it was no use to quarrel with a clerk. He only asked when was the deadline for submitting the statement and learned that _tomorrow_. He clenched his teeth and left without saying any more. Now he was really glad for having decided to come here today. Had he not learned about the problem, he wouldn't have been admitted to the exams, for no-one bothered to inform him. Sure, a university student was an adult person and should be knowledgeable about his own matters; still, such a callous attitude unnerved him. Irrationally, he longed to his high school, where the students were being taken care of... Associate dean? Who the hell was that?

Eleven o'clock was coming up, which meant he still had some time. He could as well write this document now, especially that he thought about visiting the library anyway. Paying little attention to furtive looks made by other people, he obtained a notebook and a pen and created a short text in which he explained that his family member (he'd taken liking to that phrase that, in fact, was true) had been gravely ill and he, Joshua Or, had been forced to repeatedly skip such and such classes in order to stay by his side. Did it sound sensible and convincing? In reserve, he added that he was an enthusiast of psychology and approached his studies with passion, so completing the second year and continuing his education without any delay was very important to him. Especially that - which he left unwritten - the third year meant psychopathology entering the curriculum... He put the sheet to his pocket, intending to write it up at home, and made his way to the psychology literature section. Actually, he wasn't sure whether he shouldn't search in medical section; on the other hand, he didn't need a medical knowledge, and besides the books for psychologists were surely written in a more comprehensible way...

The collection was quite depleted - which didn't surprise at the end of the school year - but he managed to find an older copy of _Introduction to Psychopathology_ , standing alone in the bigger gap. He took it and returned to his table, aware he should study something entirely different. The developmental psychology exam was next Tuesday, but he felt pretty much confident about this particular course, and he had enough time to read the notes he'd made during the lectures and seminars, so he could focus on more urgent matter now. He looked through the list of contents and found the chapter that could tell him more about psychosis in general and paranoia in particular. He only managed to get through the introduction and the historical outline, when he realized that getting to the hospital would take an hour, and it was almost noon. He borrowed the book and ran to the station; on the train, he immersed himself in reading again - and he nearly forgot to change.

Arriving at the destination, he knew at least as much that the book was telling the truth because its content agreed with what he'd heard from Dr Sellier the previous day. Besides, it was written in an accessible tongue, which wasn't at all a rule for scientific literature. Or could it be that his being interested in the topic made it possible for him to understand what that all was about...? Walking quickly - he couldn't be late - he wondered whether he should consider the clinical psychology as an eventual option for himself... Undoubtedly, it was extremely interesting - but would he be able to work with mentally ill people, for example in the psychiatric hospital? Well, such reflection was probably too early; first, he had to get acquainted with the discipline... and all others that his studies included. Once he had, he would probably decide on what it was he wanted to do in his professional life... Of course, _first_ he had to graduate, which didn't seem so easy, he thought, remembering the paper he needed to write, its first draft in his pocket.

Dr Sellier was awaiting him - and with good news, on top of that. She asked him to sit down and then said, "Mr Corail's condition has improved, and there was no reason to continue his seclusion. He's currently staying on the ward, with other patients. That is, he's resting in his room. The medication has made him quite drowsy."

"What about his delusions?" Josh asked, finding it the most important matter.

"They probably diminished," the doctor replied. "At least, he stopped shouting the threats and no longer appears to feel insecure, I can tell as much. I didn't manage to talk with him... he doesn't answer my questions, probably due to sedation... so I can't be sure about his mental state," she warned.

Josh wondered whether he should be anxious or not; he didn't know. Well, surely it was a good thing that Alain had calmed down. But if he'd calmed down too much, it couldn't be good. "But that... sedation... is going to wear off, right?" he asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. When dealing with severe psychosis, making a person agitated and aggressive, we use high doses in order to tranquillize a patient as soon as possible," she explained. "Some adverse effects can appear... However, sedation can be treated both as adverse and _favourable_ effect."

Josh thought he could understand that. Apparently, in psychiatry many things were relative, too. Then, Alain had calmed down and no longer needed to stay in seclusion, which meant... "Then... can I see him today?" he asked with hope.

"Yes. How do you feel about that?" she said quickly.

"I'm happy, of course," Josh replied right away and then he added, "although I fear that, too," he confessed. "Now that his delusions are gone... Maybe he's going to blame me for his illness," he muttered.

Dr Sellier raised her eyebrows. "Blame you for his illness?" she repeated with astonishment. "What made you think something like that?"

"I should have spend more time with him... back when he was suffering from pneumonia... and when he was recuperating. I focused on my studies too much and... Doctor, we even stopped making love," he said in a quiet voice, lowering his head.

"Hmm, I see, well... I understand your point of view... especially that you realize the influence of the external factors on mental health..." the doctor stated. "However, I'd like you to listen to me: in psychiatry, we don't consider the option of 'making someone ill'. First of all, we still don't recognize all factors contributing to mental disorders; we only know they are numerous, and that the most crucial is a person's individual vulnerability, in the first place. Even in the identical situation, one would develop no symptoms, and the other would fall ill with a psychosis."

"It still doesn't change the fact that I should've taken better care of him," Josh murmured, his eyes fixed on his lap. "If he developed the symptoms, it meant that the situation was bad... that I didn't tend to him in a proper way."

"Now you're clearly getting into unconscionable self-accusation," the doctor said, obviously discontented.

"I know," Josh suppressed a sig, then rubbed his forehead and raised his gaze. "I forgot to call my therapist," now he remembered it.

Dr Sellier looked at him closely; then she slowly said, "I'm not _your_ doctor, so maybe I shouldn't say it... But it seems to me that you're lacking the objectivity now. Talking with the therapist is a good idea," she agreed. "As for your studies... It's only natural that you devoted your time to it. You study at the university, right? Unfortunately, attending university isn't a trifle... You can't neglect it, although sometimes you'd like to just rest and do something else. You really can't blame yourself for applying yourself to your studies; doing so would be completely unreasonable."

Josh understood what she meant. The more frustrated he felt at the thought that all his effort could be in vain... "Well, yes, you're right, Doctor... And now it may be that I don't complete the year at all... I've just visited the secretary and learned that I need to present an explanatory note for my absence during classes. I wrote that I tended to the ill family member, but I have no idea whether it's going to suffice. I worked hard the whole year, and now they create such problems..." He didn't know why he told her that. Maybe he just wanted to vent his anger somehow.

The doctor seemed to think intensely. "Hmm... I might give you a statement that would excuse you in a veiled way..." she offered. "Hmm, like, 'Mr Joshua Or has been involved in the treatment of his family member, A.C., who has been hospitalized in April this year in Saint-Maurice Hospital due to long and grave illness. Mr Or's participation in A.C.'s therapeutic process is absolutely required, as well as advisable, owing to A.C.'s condition. The purpose of this certificate is to justify Mr Or's absence during the classes specified in a separate document. Signed Colette Catherine Sellier, medical specialist, registration number 7273779, Paris, 28th of April, 19XX.' How does it sound to you?"

Josh blinked and looked up at her. It sounded... good... and was veiled, indeed. Apparently, Dr Sellier was well versed in art of telling what could be of greatest benefit. "Would you really write that for me, Doctor?" Josh asked with hope.

"It's not a problem. I can't guarantee it will help, though," she added critically.

"I'm sure it will!" he exclaimed. "It's a very official note; they have to honour it... I don't know how to thank you, Doctor." He ran one hand through his hair.

The doctor leaned over the desk and gave him a sharp look. "You will stop blaming yourself for Mr Corail's illness," she said cunningly, "and, of course, you're going to tell me more about him," she added, grabbing a notebook.

For his part, Josh was more than willing to do so, and thus they quickly became immersed in a conversation, with Alain as its main topic. Josh, as much as he could, answered the doctor's questions about Alain's family and childhood, as well as his school years, with emphasis on his academic progression. He told that Alain had never known his biological father since his mother had got married - re-married? - when he'd been still very young. He told that the stepfather had had a tendency to overuse alcohol and behave violently towards his family members - as well as his own daughter, Alain's stepsister, before she'd ended in the orphanage. He told how Alain had met Grace and had become very attached to her. How she'd tragically died when he'd been only a second-year of high school, and how hard he'd taken it. How he'd started to conduct himself badly: associate with the delinquents, drink alcohol and smoke, and skip his classes. How he'd had to repeat the final year because of non-attendance, even though he'd done pretty well at school if he'd only applied himself to it - which could be seen on his high-school diploma, after he'd started to study again.

Later, he told how the beginning of their relationship had looked like, how difficult he'd found to figure Alain out, for Alain was a master in hiding positive emotions and feelings. ("Maybe he had a trouble understanding them... realizing them, since he'd felt mostly negative ones as a child?" Dr Sellier suggested.) How they'd spent a lot of time together, learning and enjoying each other's company. How Alain had 'settled' after that earlier, hard period and had managed to cope with his past. How he'd discovered his tendency to first act - or simply accept what happened around him - and only later think about that and make conclusions. How he'd showed Josh a genuine concern, even if not other feelings.

He preferred to avoid a long speech on how Alain had left him and disappeared - especially that it was his tale, not Alain's - so he skipped three years and told about their reunion in Idealo, in July, one year ago. How Alain had changed, and how frightening his acting had been - so different from the one Josh had remembered. What Josh had heard about his conduct in the meanwhile - that Alain had seemingly returned to his 'bad' self from the high school. Dr Sellier was very interested in that phase, so Josh had to tell his impression from that period in great details. They reached the conclusion Alain hadn't been psychotic that time, but the doctor mused over it for a longer while, before she let Josh continue, and made a few notes on the margins.

How they had got together with Alain again couldn't be told without mentioning Josh's performance on the church tower, which the doctor didn't comment on in any way, though, and Josh hoped she didn't regard him to be too disturbed. In any case, what mattered was that Alain had taken a turn for better and had become caring and tender again. The doctor nodded, as if everything made a perfect sense to her, and waited for the continuation. That was, in Josh's opinion, the least interesting part - although, at the same time, the most wonderful - for it described their daily life in Paris, once they'd rented a flat, and Alain had found himself a job, and everything had been fine... until now.

"Doctor... But he's going to get better, right?" he asked, needing an assurance; he still wasn't absolutely sure of that... and probably wouldn't be until Alain left the hospital for good.

The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. "More or less... he is. But now I think you'd like to see him," she said, closing the notebook.

Josh glanced at his watch and was terrified: he'd been talking nearly two hours. In the meantime, the sun had moved behind the corner, and the nice shade was filling the room. "I'm sorry... I didn't realize it's this late already... and you could spent me only an hour, Doctor."

She shook her head. "I adjusted my schedule a bit. I wanted that we had enough time, for I expected a longer story," she replied. "And you are a very good teller, paying attention to right details."

"I hope I can be of some help..."

"Not 'some', but 'substantial'," she corrected. "You're providing me with the information that is of really great value. You really do."

He smiled shyly. "Is it going to help Alain?" he asked; that was the most important thing here.

"Without doubt," she replied. "Thanks to that, I'll be able to make a right diagnosis. But we're not finished yet," she warned him, reaching for her diary. "Could you visit me tomorrow? I still have some questions about the recent weeks."

Josh nodded. "What time is right for you?" he asked as she was staring at her schedule for tomorrow and biting at the tip of her pen.

"Hmm... Hmmm... Eleven, if I skip the lunch... No, not happening," she decided ironically. "But I can squeeze you between lunch and my patient at twelve... Half an hour would be enough. Half past eleven? Is that all right?" she offered, looking at him again.

"Will I be able to see Alain after that?" Josh asked, thinking quickly. "I ask because, you know, the visiting time is only from two o'clock...?" he added in an innocent voice.

She closed her diary and gave him a penetrating look from behind her glasses. "You have my permission, but don't put it around," she said, and Josh felt as if they were two conspirators.

"Then, I'm going to be here half past eleven," he confirmed.

"Fine, I'm glad," the doctor got up. "Now, we have to catch the secretary before she leaves home, so that she can type you that certificate."

Josh had already managed to forget about the whole business, so he was happy to be reminded of that. Fortunately, the secretary was still there and right away type-wrote - on the official form of the hospital - the dictated document that the doctor then signed and handed him. "Let's hope it will do," she said with reserve.

"Thank you very much, Doctor," Josh folded it in two and put into "Introduction to Psychopathology", so that it didn't crumple. Saying with some drama, his future on the university depended on that sheet of paper, so he should take good care of it.

"Now, to Mr Corail. I'm going to show you the way," the doctor offered.

"Can I really see him?" Josh asked when they were in the corridor again.

"Let's go together and check the situation," she replied with a smile that gave him some confidence.

The door of the room number eight were just like any other door. The doctor knocked and walked in, and Josh slipped behind her - eagerly yet anxious. The first impression wasn't scary, though: a single room was filled with sunlight... that apparently didn't disturb a person lying on a narrow bed. Josh felt a sudden surge of affection, which couldn't be a bad sign, although he'd rather not contemplate his other emotions yet.

"Mr Corail, a guest for you," the doctor said, shutting the door.

Alain didn't react; it could be he was sleeping. He was lying with his back towards them, without a cover, clad in hospital clothes.

The doctor approached the bed and gently put one hand on his shoulder. "Mr Corail," she repeated, shaking him slightly.

Then, Alain moved, very slowly. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around; then, as if with difficulty, he rolled to the other side - so that now he was facing the inside of the room. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"He's still under the influence of the medication," the doctor explained, turning to Josh and then again to Alain. "Mr Corail, Joshua is here to see you," she pointed in his direction.

Alain, however, would only give him a brief look - and nothing in his gaze indicated he recognized him - before shutting his eyes again and lying without word. Josh looked at the doctor with hesitation.

"Don't worry, it's going to wear off," she assured him, taking Alain by his wrist to measure his pulse. "On the other hand, his organism needs rest after being forced into state of unnatural agitation for many weeks, so let him rest. It's possible that he'll become more animated by night, but I can't really guarantee that."

Distractedly, Josh nodded. It seemed no conversation with Alain would happen today... He swallowed down the feeling of disappointment and thought that they would have enough time to talk later. The most important thing was that Alain was getting better. And that Josh could see him today. He should be happy about that.

"Is it all right if I stay here?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the motionless figure on the bed.

"I can't see why you wouldn't," the doctor replied. "But... if something happens, inform the staff right away, you know where the nurse station is. Or call for help. Remember, it's not only your safety in question, but of the patients, too," she emphasised. "I'm saying it just in case; I don't think anything is going to happen." Josh nodded automatically. "Then, we're seeing each other tomorrow at half past eleven," she reminded, then shook his hand and left.

When the door closed behind her, Josh had a look around the room. There were few pieces of furniture here: the bed, a small cupboard in the corner, and a simple table with one chair. He moved it nearer to the bed and sat down, staring at Alain, who was lying on the mattress, breathing slowly, with his eyes closed. He didn't seem as if he was in any pain, and it seemed to be a positive thing here. On the other hand... How had the doctor called that? Sedation. Josh really hoped it would go away soon... Alain appeared so... lifeless. Numb. Out of contact. So unlike that last time that Josh had seen him; that time, life was in Alain's every cell, in every motion, in every look and breath. The contrast was so great that Josh thought they were two different people.

But, maybe he really should view the matter from the positive point? he quickly realized. That time, Alain's life had been controlled by fear, making him act in a way that was not normal for him. Sure, Alain had been standing, moving and speaking... so what, if - simultaneously - he hadn't been sane, and his behaviour had hurt himself and everyone around? Now was the time to remedy that... to put an end to it... so that it never happened again. Let Alain sleep... let him sleep that bad dream until the end, so that he waked up healthy... just like before.

Alain's face was haggard; maybe it'd been such earlier, but Josh hadn't noticed. His hair was tangled; he'd probably hadn't combed it for two days, never speaking of shaving. Josh had to ask whether the patients were given any toiletries here... If not, he would bring Alain's own from home. Yes, that was a good idea. As well as some clothes, for those hospital ones wouldn't see good on anyone. And, if Alain had trouble moving around, Josh could help him with his personal hygiene. They said, A sound mind in a sound body; he'd realized it himself, just this morning. Alain would surely feel better when clean and in his own clothes. Maybe as soon as tomorrow? The doctor had said he should quickly recover. Josh had to be optimistic - and now he already knew he could.

When he'd got here, just a moment ago, he'd been filled with various emotions: anticipation, anxiety, uncertainty - what would he find, what would he see, how Alain would treat him, would they talk, would they straighten things... His heart had been beating hard, and he hadn't felt at all confident in regard to this visit. (Well, he didn't believe _anyone_ to feel confident when visiting his lover in a psychiatric facility.) Maybe subconsciously he'd feared that Alain would attack him again, accuse him... Frankly speaking, it was not his physical injuries that hurt him the most, only Alain's being convicted of his betrayal... he just couldn't bear with Alain's hatred... How silly that it still evoked that discomfort, even now that he knew that hatred wasn't real... Yet, had Alain still treated him that way, Josh would have probably fallen to pieces. How much he loved Alain and how strongly he needed Alain's presence in his life was really terrifying. No wonder that meeting Alain again had evoked such mixed feeling.

However, now that he was sitting here, in this room filled with sunlight, when he was again by Alain's side and looking at his sleeping face, now he felt he was calming down. As if he was finally able to believe that the crisis was past them, and that terrible situation was over - or, at least, was improving. As if that great wave that could have swept them away was subsiding, and they'd managed to reach the safe shore... He took a deep breath, wondering distractedly how many crisis they would have yet to face - and banished that thought right away. Such reflection wouldn't help anything; he'd rather learn from those experiences and become stronger in case the new ones were coming. What they'd lived through until now, Alain and he, wasn't anything trivial, was it?

He realized - probably due to his talk with Dr Sellier - that this month meant they'd been together... for one year. It was funny that one year was stretched over four years, actually... Two months in high school - so intense, so unforgettable, like a tale that happened only to few people - and now the last ten months. That time, in Saint Grollo, had anyone told him that they would celebrate their anniversary in an insane asylum, he wouldn't have believed... even less if he'd been told that last year. On the other hand... There were certainly worse places, so he'd rather not think about that.

But... yes, during those twelve months they'd experienced quite a lot. Mad crush - not at all one-sided, if he could believe Alain on that - when one would wake up only to see that other person again, when one would desperately try to figure that person out in order to make him happier and, above all, to gain his trust, not scare him with some rash move. Parting that had resulted from lack of understanding, from imperfection... not of feelings but of people. Hell of solitude that neither of them could cope with. Return that could still happen and hadn't been too late... Finally, the daily life together, so sweet, so full of hope and joy, despite constant adversities. They'd been supporting each other during that year, in sickness and in health, in study and in work. And when they _were_ together, nothing could really be better. Josh thought - selfish as it was - that he probably wouldn't have traded away anything of that one year.

It wasn't that everything had worked well just like that. No, they'd contributed to it equally - with talks, glances, smiles, and night acts of passion. It was happiness they had been creating themselves, even if they weren't perfect - which was proved by the current situation, brought about by difficulties in communication, by inability to balance the private life with professional one; above all, by failure to predict how external factors could influence their life. Maybe Josh should really stop blaming himself for Alain's disease, after all? Maybe he should rather acknowledge that he just couldn't control everything that happened in his - their - life? How had Pierre said it yesterday? 'We're not living in the void; everything affects everything.' Yes, every action caused reaction, and there was hardly ever any possibility to control it; such was life, and he'd better accept that, instead of sinking in unproductive complains and reproaching himself for a slightest mistake. Maybe, what was the most crucial, he should tell himself that, even if something unpredictable happened, something hard and painful, there was always a chance to manage? Just like now. Looking at Alain, who was sleeping soundly in the sunlight, he thought he could believe that.

After some time he reached for _Introduction to Psychopathology_ and became absorbed in reading.

* * *

Alain slept the rest of day, although he did wake up to eat the dinner he'd been brought. He still seemed to dwell in some other world, his own world, and didn't make any contact with his surroundings. Using a spoon and a fork made him some trouble, but he somehow managed with the meal and lay down again. Josh stayed by his side until six o'clock, when he decided it was time to go home. Before leaving, he squeezed his arm lightly, although the reaction was quite poor: Alain only opened his eyes and stared at him briefly, then fell asleep again.

On his way home, Josh wondered what he should bring him tomorrow. According to the staff, a toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as shaving amenities, was a good idea. A comb, too, some clothes, and fruits that didn't require to be cut... apples and banana would do. He would buy them tomorrow. Ah, he forgot to call Mr Ageais again, he was really path-

In any case, his memory left much to be desired, but was that anything new, now? Still, he remembered quite vividly what he'd read from the book - mostly about different psychoses... It wasn't a nice read, sometimes it was definitely scary, but he felt obliged to know, even if only theoretically, what ailed Alain. Besides, he would benefit from it on his third year... that was, of course, if he managed to complete this one...

He returned to the university issue although, after the problems in dean's office he was quite reluctant to do so. He had to take Dr Sellier's document there, right in the morning. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to talk to the associate dean, too, whoever he was...? Josh would have a feeling he tended to his matters in person, not via some papers that could get lost and so on. His face should look better tomorrow, so he could show himself to the university authorities.

He slept really well this night, like a man who was no longer worried about his future.

* * *

The associate dean appeared to be a decent human being who quietly accepted Josh's explanation, both verbal and written. The man looked through Josh's credit record and decided there was no reason to prevent him from taking the exams.

"The first year could have been better," he said, "but, then again, hardly anyone shines brilliantly on the first year. The most important is that you completed it," he added with surprising frankness. "The third term was much better, and the fourth looks good, too. It's obvious you apply yourself to it. Do you like psychology?" he asked in a friendly manner.

"Yes," Josh replied and, since the dean seemed to wait for more, supplied, "I'm particularly interested in developmental psychology and psychopathology, Sir," Well, that was true; even now he had a 'right' textbook in his bag.

The man nodded with approval. "I've seen how you scored on the developmental psychology tests," he said. "You do well in personality psychology, too. But psychopathology...? It's the third year, isn't it? I suppose you're in the research circle...?"

Josh lowered his head, as if in repentance. "I'm sorry... I didn't really find time, although Professor Fleury did invite me. As you see, Sir, my important person has been gravely ill in last months..." he explained, pointing at the documents, that the dean had put on his desk. "I didn't even manage to attend every classes..." he added in a softer voice.

"Yes, that's an unfortunate thing," the man said with compassion. "Will you be able to concentrate on the exams? If needed, we can make an exception and arrange another date, in September...?" he offered.

Josh mused over. That solution suited him... _had_ suited him not so long ago - but now he wanted to get the second year over with, as soon as possible.

"I think there's no such need," he replied slowly. "The situation is already improving. My... my relative is receiving a proper treatment, and his condition is getting better, so I feel much better, too. I don't have to worry any more. Besides... we have only two examinations, so I should manage." And if he didn't, he would still have a possibility to take a repeat exam; he didn't really care about the marks. "But I'm really grateful for your consideration, Sir," he added, looking at the man timidly.

"In that case, I wish you good luck," the dean got up and stretched his hand; apparently, he wasn't someone to waste time for idle talking.

Josh said goodbye and left. He felt like giving an earful to the secretary hag - to pay her back for yesterday - but decided it wasn't worth his energy. He had to settle with the expression on her face when half an hour ago he'd marched into the office and had demanded to see the associate dean, forcefully putting the folder with important documents on the counter. Now he realized he was really lucky that the dean had received him: that he'd been present and had found time for Josh. And, what was the most important here, that he had succeeded with his task, and even had heard some nice words from, it seemed, a professor. Maybe these studies weren't such a big mistake, after all...?

Eleven o'clock had only passed when he already arrived by Dr Sellier's office. He took out the book and resumed reading about psychoses. He was tempted to look in on Alain, but he didn't want to hang around the ward before the visiting time; it was quite another thing to do so after a meeting with the doctor.

Thus, Dr Sellier found him lost in reading. "Anything interesting?" he heard her cheerful voice.

He raised his eyes upon her before looking at the book again. "Quite much... But I try to stay positive regardless," he replied with irony.

She laughed and asked him inside.

"Your document was of great help, Doctor. Thank you," he said, making his way towards the familiar chair, while she took her place behind the desk. "Although, I'm under the impression the dean didn't even read it."

"Apparently he decided, just like I did, that talking to you was of greater value," he commented. "But I'm glad you managed to have it arranged. In such times, additional problems are what one needs the least."

Josh nodded. "How is Alain doing?" he asked.

"Better and better," she replied, "although he still doesn't feel like talking to me. I tried to reduce his dose today, so that he doesn't sleep the whole day. We'll see if it will have a good effect."

Josh wasn't sure whether he should be happy about that. "What if... his delusions come back?"

The doctor adjusted her glasses and then tucked the strand of her hair behind one ear. "There's always such risk, true, but I think it's worth trying nonetheless. If his symptoms recur, we can always return to the higher dose," she explained.

Well, that sounded reasonably, although Josh thought he'd rather not had the symptoms recur, for it would meant that Alain's recovery prolonged. Wasn't it better, then, to stay by the dose that had helped Alain already...? But in that case, Alain would sleep all the time, which wasn't good either... Well, she was the doctor here, so he should leave it to her; she surely knew what to do.

Instead, he decided to focus on the positives, and Alain's soon and undoubted recovery was definitely one of them. "Doctor... What's going to happen when Alain feels better...?" he asked. "When he no longer has the symptoms… when he's like before. What then?"

"Then, of course, he's going to be discharged from hospital," she answered, putting her elbows on the desk.

"And come home?"

"That, I think, depends on _you_ ," she decided somewhat mockingly, making Josh smile.

"It's not what I meant. Alain can always come back to me," he said. "But what about that assault? The neighbour is threatening to go to the police... to report an offence. And make Alain be sentenced."

"Hmm..." the doctor straightened in her chair. "In such cases, the police requests a psychiatric opinion. And in Mr Corail's case, I cannot give any other opinion than that, during the incident, he was of unsound mind and thus cannot be held responsible for his action."

Josh breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure whether Francis would execute his threats indeed, but it was good to know the facts. Then, Alain would come back home... That was wonderful. As for whether they had to move out from rue Keller, Josh'd rather not wonder now.

The doctor only had half an hour for him, so he applied himself to describing Alain's and his last two months: starting from their return from Autrans, through Alain's pneumonia and Easter, until the present. The doctor found it crucial to determine the period of time that Alain had experienced delusions - whether they were talking about the days or, rather, weeks and months. Josh could tell her at least that much that in early March everything had been perfectly normal. Also, they ascertained beyond all doubt that Alain had had no hallucinations; if he'd seemed to listen out for something, it would be the noises from the staircase and the neighbouring flat. They had some trouble classifying the information he had allegedly received from his non-existent relatives: what they'd wanted, what they'd planned to do, their threats and so on - especially that Alain, Josh now realized it, had appeared to reel off ever new 'revelations' as their talk had proceeded; he would throw another comments when he'd seen fit to include them in the conversation. However, nothing in his demeanour indicated that he'd been hearing any voices directly giving him the messages of such content, so it must have been a delusion as well. Josh remarked that there was no unfamiliar numbers in Alain's phone and that the only person that had called Alain during the last few months was his mother, although at this stage that information was no longer of any significance.

When Josh finished, the doctor gave him a contented look, moving the notebook away. "Now I think, Joshua, we finally know where we are with Mr Corail," she said with conviction. "I'm going to have some examinations done yet... head magnetic resonance, at least. And I want him to fill one questionnaire, too... The next time we see each other, I'm going to speak with you about the diagnosis already. But it's going to happen after the weekend. Tomorrow, I'm off, due to a training session. What time can you visit me on Monday?"

Josh shook his head. "What fits you best, Doctor. I am free."

"Then, let's make it twelve o'clock," she marked it in her diary. "We're going to meet in three: Mr Corail, you and I. We'll have a talk about his condition, treatment, diagnosis, and prognosis," she informed.

"That sounds really good," Josh replied, getting up. "Then, see you on Monday! I think Alain will feel much better by then."

"I, too, hope for that," she said with a smile and then started to prepare herself for the next meeting, while Josh made his way to the room number eight.

Nothing really seemed to have changed with Alain, but he no longer lay down, and his gaze was much more lucid, so the smaller dose worked well, all right. And he definitely recognized Josh. Well, actually, that was a _substantial_ change, Josh thought, remembering how it had looked like yesterday.

He hugged Alain but wasn't hugged back. Well, he wasn't pushed away, either, so there was some plus. "How are you feeling?" he asked with a smile but got any answer. "I brought you some things from home," he added, taking out the clothes and other items. "And fruits. So that you recover quickly."

He put the plastic bag on the table and sat down on the bed next to Alain. "I heard you didn't want to speak with Dr Sellier..." he said. "You know, she's trying to help you, so you should have a talk with her, really. And the next week, we're going to have a meeting with her, you and me. I suppose we're going to talk about your discharge already."

Alain was just sitting there and staring at his own lap; he seemed to be at a loss. Impulsively, Josh embraced him and pressed his cheek against his neck. "You don't want to speak with me, either? Alain?" he asked in a low voice.

"I..." Alain whispered. "What am I doing here?"

Josh moved away and looked at him again. Alain's eyes were still fixed on the floor, but he himself appear to be somewhere else.

"You were sick... You don't remember?"

Hesitantly, Alain shook his head. Now, that was something Josh hadn't expected... but maybe he should have. He controlled his surprise and said as calmly as he could, "You've been in hospital for three days now. It's Saint-Maurice Hospital. But you're feeling better already, aren't you?"

Alain didn't react, and Josh thought everything started to make sense. If Alain didn't remember anything, he had all right to feel uncertain. Josh needed to give him some confidence... restore his sense of security in this completely unfamiliar situation that he must have been finding very unpleasant.

"I think we should start with doing yourself up," Josh decided, reaching for a comb. "That way, you're going to feel like a convalescent, not a sick person. Can I brush your hair?" he asked in the most natural voice he managed to utter.

Alain didn't object, so Josh got to work right away. It wasn't really time-consuming since Alain's hair was quite short. After brief encounter with the comb, it was looking somewhat better. He decided that tomorrow he would try and persuade Alain to wash his head.

"Don't you feel like shaving?" he made another suggestion, remembering that Alain used to be quite particular about it.

Alain kept blinking for a moment and then nodded.

"The bathroom is a better place for that, though," Josh decided and got up.

Reaching the place lasted a longer moment; Alain left the room with some reluctance, and he had quite a puzzled look when they emerged in the corridor, but Josh simply guided him to the patients' bathroom. When inside, Alain spent a moment staring at his reflection; then, without a word, he took a shaver from Josh's hands - Josh had already managed to plug it in - and started to groom his face. Josh concluded that moving his hands came off much better than only yesterday, when Alain had had trouble holding his cutlery, to say nothing of actually using them.

"Better now?" Josh asked when Alain was done and drying his face with a paper towel.

"Yes."

On their way back, Alain was looking around with some confusion. It was obvious he had no idea where he was and what he was doing here, to begin with. At least he maintained touch with his surroundings. Besides, Josh decided, most people would be confused having awakened in such a place. The very sight of the patients - strolling over the corridors, occupying armchairs and couches, standing by the windows - prompted to various reflection, to say nothing of emotions. Some seemed to stay in their own worlds, devoid of any sense of reality. Others indulged in animated conversations, clearly not bothered by the lack of interlocutor. Suddenly, the two of them were approached by a middle-aged man wearing a cotton bathrobe, who excitedly started to tell them about something that probably only he understood; soon, a nurse took care of them, leading him politely yet firmly to a sofa. The patient on the balcony was energetically pedalling on the gym bike again, as if his life depended on it.

Yes, it was undoubtedly a strange place - but what else could be expected of a psychiatric hospital? In the same time, Josh didn't have the impression that he should feel insecure here - while people with mental disorders were often considered dangerous... and he could witness himself how a previously sane person might act when driven by delusions. Here, however, everything seemed to be under control; the patients were being given appropriate treatment, and those who couldn't restrain themselves and might pose a threat to others, were being secluded and under constant observation. In this sunny spring day at the end of April, this ward somehow appeared to be the most peaceful and the safest location on Earth.

"What is this place?" Alain asked when they were back in the room, sitting down on the bed; maybe he'd already forgot what he'd been told before, or maybe he just wanted to know more.

"Saint-Maurice Hospital," Josh replied patiently. "It's a... psychiatric ward," he added hesitantly, but there was no point in hiding it.

Alain blinked; however, if he was shocked by that revelation, he didn't show that. "What am I doing here?"

"You were sick," Josh said, tenderly brushing a strand of Alain's hair behind his left ear. "You were sick... and then it worsened. On Monday, the emergency unit came to bring you here for treatment. Do you remember what day is today?"

After a moment, Alain shook his head.

"Today is Thursday," Josh explained calmly. "You were given strong medication, so you may not remember. Besides..." he tried to recollect what was written in the book; there was something like... "The illness might be so severe that you can't remember anything clearly. Now, the most important is that you take your medication and obey Dr Sellier's prescriptions. I'm sure you're going to be discharged soon, but now you have to stay here for a while," he said firmly, realizing it should be the doctor saying these things to Alain, not him. "Although," he moved his face closer to Alain's ear, "I'd like to have you home as soon as possible," he whispered.

"I... can't remember anything," Alain replied, putting one hand on his forehead.

"You were gravely ill," Josh repeated again. "You know that in some illnesses... for example, with the fever... person often can't remember a thing, right? Do you remember how you were sick with pneumonia in March? You had a high fever then."

Alain nodded. "But now... what is it? What was it?" he asked the question that Josh feared the most.

"I think you should... ask Dr Sellier about that," he replied in the most natural way, hoping that Alain wouldn't see it as hiding some information from him. He might, with all that suspicious of his... Josh could only count on medication to blunt that trait a bit. "Next Monday, we're going to meet with her, so we'll be told everything. But I think that your disease started already then, from that pneumonia... and dragged on for almost two months," he added cautiously.

"What disease?"

Josh suppressed a sigh. Well, he should be happy that Alain's ability to think logically was back. "You should ask Dr Sellier about that. You know I'm not a doctor... I'm just a poor student... and I have an exam next week," he decided it was high time to change the subject. He rested his head on Alain's shoulder and slid right arm under his elbow. "I was at the university today, to have one thing fixed in order to be admitted to it. But everything worked fine and-"

"I want to go home."

"You can't yet," Josh answered in a soft voice. "Your treatment is still going on... you can't discontinue it. Remember how that pneumonia dragged on... And you're going to have some examinations yet. You have to take care of yourself.

"I don't want to be here."

"You're not possibly saying that Alain Corail is... scared of being in hospital, are you?" Josh asked innocently, his head still on Alain's shoulder.

"I'm not scared," Alain replied, and Josh decided to remember that answer well.

"Nah, I was stupid to ask that," he corrected. "No-one likes to be in hospital, that's obvious. But you surely realize that discontinuing the treatment isn't a good idea...? I don't want you to stay on sick leave for another two moths. No way."

"I feel fine."

"It's a doctor who decides that," Josh replied, suppressing another sigh and hoping that Alain wouldn't discover that the door of the ward was closed, at least not today. "I'll agree to take you home only when Dr Sellier says it's safe for you to leave hospital," he announced in a firm voice, although he didn't really know whether there was any point in posing such a condition.

However, Alain said nothing, so maybe it made him think, after all. They kept sitting in silence, and the sun was warming their backs. Josh enjoyed this moment of intimacy - such different from what he remembered from home. Now, even such a little contact seemed to him a happiness he'd been devoid of for so long... He couldn't hold back a smile - and optimism. He had no doubt that everything was going to be fine.

A knocking on the door was to be heard, and then a nurse entered, holding a tray with a plastic cup and another one, much smaller. "Mr Corail's medication," she said with smile, then approached and offered the tray to Alain.

Alain looked at a pill and decided, "I don't want it."

"What are you talking about?" Josh reacted before the nurse managed to say anything. "It's normal that you take your medication when in hospital. You've taken them so far... and you're already recovering. It's thanks to them that you're going to return home soon," he added when inspiration struck him. "Home," he repeated, putting one hand on Alain's shoulder to support and encourage him.

Alain kept staring at the white pill; finally, he took it into his fingers and put into his mouth, washing down. He didn't seem particularly pleased, but maybe Josh's argument had appealed to him. The nurse gave Josh a grateful look and left.

"I think it is the right way," Josh muttered, cuddling up to him again.

Then, however, he decided to stop influencing Alain, at least for today. Alain could be mentally ill but not an idiot; at some point, he would surely realize that Josh was trying to persuade him to certain decisions, and it was something to be avoided. Josh didn't want Alain to regard him as a manipulator, never... even if nothing was more true than that.

After a pill, Alain became drowsy quite soon and lay down to get some rest. Josh moved onto the chair and shortly took out the book, with which he was getting more and more friendly. Alain became slightly invigorated for the dinner, but he didn't start any conversation, and Josh didn't bother him with its attempts. He decided his presence here was enough, and, to tell the truth, he didn't feel bad about that. He found the fact that he was able to remain silent by Alain's side one of his virtues.

In the evening, when he was returning home, he came to the conclusion that the first day with recovering Alain boded well for the future - Alain's, his own, and theirs common one. He could smile again and believe that the smile would stay with him for good.

* * *

 _I comfort you when you fall sick and fear death - Zen Caf_ _é, "Lohdutan sua"_


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**  
 _ **(I'd love to stay forever)**_

* * *

"Why can't I remember anything?" Alain asked the next day.

Apparently, it wouldn't stop bothering him, and Josh didn't find it strange: it was nothing pleasant to be unable to remember some facts from one's own recent past; out of ten people, it would make nine anxious and insecure. In this particular case, however, Josh wasn't sure whether remembering was a good thing, after all. For his part, he wished to forget all about what had happened the last Monday - it seemed, an eternity ago - and Alain's amnesia could only help it. Besides, he didn't consider himself the best person to introduce Alain to the details of his psychosis. On the other hand... they _were_ partners; they should trust each other and be able to talk about everything.

"It's because of your illness," he repeated patiently.

"Illness, illness..." Alain replied anxiously. "But what kind of illness?"

Josh suppressed a sigh. No, he didn't want to hide anything from Alain. "What is the last thing you remember?" he asked.

Alain was thoughtful for a longer while and finally shrugged.

"You do remember that you had a pneumonia, don't you?" Josh said and was answered by a nod. "And that you were recovering very slowly...? You didn't leave home for over a month." Another nod. "Then Easter came... Two weeks ago was Good Friday. Do you remember our Easter?"

The lack of reaction told him Alain didn't remember, which meant he had more or less two weeks gap in his memory.

"On Easter, you started to feel unwell..." 'Or, rather, on Easter _I_ realized something was wrong,' he thought. "You started to have..." How should he say that? "You started to fear for your welfare... fear that something might happen to you," he said slowly, searching for the right words. "You know it often happens to people who have been sick for a longer time, and that pneumonia was really nasty. In any case... at some point... you started to suspect that someone monitored you and listened to your phone calls," he said kindly. "That's why you didn't want to leave home... and felt generally unsafe."

Now Alain looked him straight in the eye, frowning. Well, it _did_ sounded like madness - probably because it was one. "And then?" he asked in an unnaturally neutral voice.

Josh knew he had to say it in the most possible calm and gentle manner, without blaming, without accusing. "Last Sunday, we attended Georges Saphir's concert... remember?" Alain frowned even more. "We had planned to go... we'd received the tickets." Alain nodded slowly. "Well, the last Sunday we did go there but had to leave in the middle because you... because you felt so unwell that you wanted to go home quickly. You were entirely convinced we were in danger..."

Alain remained silent. It could be he tried to remember that or maybe he just wondered whether what he was being told was true, after all. Josh took his hand and let their fingers entwine. The sunlight was warming their backs; the muffled sounds of normal hospital activity were coming from the ward. It was calm, calm...

"Then, on Monday... you attacked Francis our neighbour... You suspected he wanted to hurt you..." Josh said in a soft voice. "You beat him up and threw him down the stairs... No, it sounds too bad," he quickly corrected. "You just hit him two times and kicked him once, nothing serious, he's safe and sound, more or less. You don't have to worry about that."

Alain looked at him again, and now his gaze was filled with some despair. And disbelief. And fear. Yes, such things could certainly distress him, even if he didn't try to show it.

"The neighbours called the police," Josh whispered. "But when the policemen came, you were convinced they wanted to kill you."

Alain averted his eyes. "That..." he uttered. "That sounds crazy. You want me to believe that?" he asked in a hoarse voice, but something in his tone indicated he did believe.

Josh pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the blue marks on his forearm. "Here you have some traces of being restrained. I bet you have them in some other places as well. You know, it's not easy to hold down a person who's frightened to death..."

Alain stared at the bruises and then quickly pulled down the sleeve. For a moment, they sat in silence - but one full of mutual understanding. And support. "I don't remember... anything of that..." Alain whispered.

"It's not so rare..." Josh said in order to comfort him. "When a person is in a state that makes them imagine such things, their brains don't function normally, so the memory defect is common. That you don't remember anything... it actually means you're already getting better. It will be all right, Alain," he added with emphasis and squeezed his hand.

"I want to go home," there was some anxiety in Alain's voice.

"You know it's too early for that," Josh replied quietly.

"I already fell well," Alain insisted.

"The doctor will decide about that... I mean, about you being discharged."

"In that case, I want to speak with the doctor," Alain demanded.

"You're going to see Dr Sellier on Monday," Josh explained. "She'll be happy to see you getting be-"

"I want to see the doctor now."

"There's no doctor on the ward today, not for the whole weekend..." Josh remembered what Dr Sellier had said yesterday. "You have to wait until Monday."

Alain made a move as if he wanted to get up, but Josh was faster; he embraced him with all his might and pressed his cheek to his neck. He hoped no-one would enter and witness such a violation of hospital rules, if it did happen indeed. But even if... The rules weren't the most important. "Alain, please..." he whispered insistently. "Please...!"

Alain froze... and then - good heavens! - returned the embrace. First, with hesitation, as if he'd forgot doing it... then with more confidence, willingly. Josh felt like laughing and crying at the same time. It had been so long since the last time he'd felt those arms closing around him not because of fear or sense of danger... How he'd longed for it, how he'd feared that those intimacy they had once shared would never be back...! And now Alain was embracing him... and everything was just getting better.

"If you feel as well as today, I'm sure Dr Sellier will discharge you on Monday," he said in a soft voice. "You only have to take your medication and obey the prescriptions. You have to _co-operate_. You do remember that if you don't act... accordingly, your stay here is going to prolong...? I too want us to return... home... to our life... As soon as possible," he finished in a whisper. "I miss you, I miss you so much," he said in a breaking voice.

Alain said nothing, only kept holding him in his arms - and that was the best answer.

Alain really felt better today. When Josh had come to see him - at two o'clock, for Dr Sellier wasn't here, so he couldn't beg her for a special permission - he had been clean, shaved and animated, in his own way. Yesterday, Josh had managed to catch the doctor before she'd left home; he'd asked whether Alain had needed to be given that midday medication - making him sleepy for the whole afternoon - if he'd had no delusions and been calm. The doctor had thought for a moment and then moved the dose to the evening, so that Alain now received the medication only twice a day and was lucid in afternoon. Josh hoped that such fast recovery was a good sign in the meaning of the diagnosis. Alain was clearly free of any symptoms and didn't even remember that just a few days ago he'd been absolutely convinced about being persecuted by his - non-existent - relatives.

They survived the weekend without any incidents. Alain didn't feel good closed like that, but Josh's fervent arguments must have persuaded him to remain calm. On Friday, he'd discovered he couldn't just leave the ward, but he would only stand by the door for a moment and then turn back. They would spend time either in Alain's room or on the large, enclosed balcony - usually accompanied by 'the cyclist', who might have as well been training for Tour de France; upon seeing them, he would usually smile widely and increase the speed. They would often talk about the events preceding Alain's hospitalization; Josh stuck to his version and didn't bring up that one particular detail, especially that Alain had no memory of it, and Josh's face had managed to heal almost completely. Sometimes Josh would mention about his upcoming exams; when back from the hospital, he kept revising the developmental psychology material until late, but it wasn't a problem since he could sleep long the next morning. For most of the time, however, they would talk about what they would do once Alain was discharged, and it was the most pleasant part.

Thus, Monday arrived quite fast, bringing the appointment with Dr Sellier, right at noon. Josh at once noticed her being surprise, but also contented, about Alain's condition after the few days of not seeing him. She invited them on the armchairs and took the third one herself, putting the note on her lap. Josh felt the mood was slightly different from his previous meetings with the doctor. But maybe it was normal - now it was three of them, and besides the doctor hadn't talked with Alain so far; she'd only seen him on the ward, when his state hadn't allowed such conversations. For his part, Josh decided to remain just an observer and listener this time; he was accompanying Alain today, so relating to the doctor the same way as before wouldn't do.

"I'm not sure whether you remember me, Mr Corail," the doctor began in quite an official manner. "My name is Colette Sellier, and I am the doctor in charge of your care. We've met a few times during last week, but you were very fatigued, so I wouldn't be surprised if you had no memory of it." Alain nodded. "I'm glad to see your condition has improved," the doctor continued. "To tell the truth, I didn't expect it to happen so fast, one week ago. But I'd like to hear it from you. How are you feeling?"

"Normal," Alain replied, looking at her. "I feel completely normal."

"I also think Alain is back at himself," Josh inserted. "He's just like always."

The doctor nodded. "Thank you for your opinion, Joshua," she said and turned to Alain again. "Mr Corail, do you remember why you were admitted to this hospital?" she asked.

Alain hesitated. "I don't remember... but..." He looked at Josh.

"We talked about that," Josh replied quickly. "Alain can't remember a thing. I told him what had happened, as far as I could."

"You don't remember anything?" the doctor made sure.

Alain shook his head.

"Well, it's not so uncommon..." she stated. "Joshua probably told you that before being admitted to hospital, for some period of time, you were experiencing disorders of thinking that we call delusions." She gave him a penetrating look, but her voice was calm and matter-to-fact. "You were convinced about being subjected to persecution, as well as being in danger. Your symptoms escalated to such an extent that you lost your sense of reality and became a threat to society; that is why you were sent to be treated in our hospital, and the treatment has obviously had a quick effect. Am I correct that you no longer feel threatened?"

"I don't."

"You don't experience any fears or suspicions towards other people?" she inquired.

"No."

"Have you ever, at some point, heard noises that other people around you couldn't hear? For example, human voices, directed at you, outside or inside your head?"

"No."

"Then, maybe you've seen something other people being with you couldn't see, for example figures, shapes, phenomena, scenes happening before your eyes?"

"No."

"Have you ever felt that someone influenced your thinking, inserted their thoughts inside your head or withdrew your thoughts from your mind, or that someone had influenced your behaviour, controlled you?"

"No."

"Did it happen before that you didn't have a recollection of some period, as if the whole days or weeks had been erased from your memory?"

Alain hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"Something was on your mind, right?" the doctor noticed his doubt. "Please, tell me," she encouraged him.

Alain frowned and spent another moment on thinking; no-one rushed him. "Sometimes..." he began and gulped. "Sometimes I happened to do things... that later I could remember only very vaguely." Yes, Josh had once heard it.

"And those things... weren't something you do normally, were they?"

Alain nodded, staring at his own lap.

"As if... you'd turned into someone else?" the doctor offered.

"Yes. But it doesn't make me a madman, right?" he asked, raising his eyes on her.

She gave him a sharp look. "It doesn't," she replied, although Josh thought it would be nice to know how she'd interpreted that question. "As I mentioned, before being admitted here, you were acting violently towards..." she caught Josh's quick move as he shook his head, "towards the policemen sent to detain you. Also, during your first day here, you were unnaturally agitated and required high doses of medication, as well as physical restricting, for your own safety and of those around you. At present, do you feel any aggressive impulses, directed at yourself or your surroundings?"

"No," Alain replied hoarsely and gulped again. Surely, it must have been very unpleasant to hear such things - for the second time already and told by another person. Josh felt like taking his hand but managed to check himself.

"Mr Corail, how would you describe your present mood?"

"Normal... I think."

"You don't feel depressed, sad?" the doctor prompted. "Many people can feel down when staying in hospital... especially against their own will."

"No, I don't think so. I don't consider myself particularly depressed."

"Have you had... or have now any thoughts of death... your own one or someone else's, fear of death, or suicidal thought?" she kept asking.

"No," Alain replied firmly and straightened up.

"Then, what kind of thoughts you do have? What is it that you've been thinking of recently? I suppose that stay in hospital occupies your mind quite much, right? And apart from that? Please, tell me," she encouraged.

"Apart from that..." Alain mused. "I don't know. I probably think of returning home. And to work. I feel fine already."

"Actually, what is your employment? Where do you work? the doctor asked in a neutral voice, and Josh picked up his ears.

"I help at... at a shop," Alain replied, and that was all. "At grocer's," he added, though, when the silence prolonged.

Josh asked himself whether he was disappointed or not. Well, having graduated only from high school, Alain couldn't count on any special job. If he was fine with that, Josh was the last person to raise any objection - even if personally he was of the opinion Alain could get into university... He must have got this work through the employment agency... Well, it also explained why Alain would often come home with considerable grocery shopping.

"It's a physical work, isn't it?" the doctor asked. "Haven't you recently... I mean, before your sick-leave, didn't you feel tired or less motivated towards your job?"

"No."

"Then, you do like your job?"

Alain shrugged. "I don't think about that. I'm happy I have it, that's all," he answered in his typical way.

"Ah, but I have just remembered..." the doctor frowned. "I heard from Joshua that... there were some problems in your workplace...?" Alain blinked. "That they no longer wished you to work there, due to your long absence...? Could you please explain that to me?"

Alain, however, couldn't. "Nothing like that... happened," he finally said with reluctance. "The owner is... a good person. He told me not to be bothered with that, only focus on recovering. And inform him when I would be ready to resume working."

"Ah, I must have misunderstood that," the doctor replied in an apologetic voice, but she cast Josh a meaningful look at the same time.

It seemed that Alain's being fired was his delusion as well - or a conscious lie, although Josh didn't believe that. Obviously, Alain's mind had tried to find 'an excuse' for staying home... That Alain didn't remember about it was the best proof - as was the fact that he hadn't been contacted by anyone after Easter; Josh remembered there were no incoming calls in his phone, except for those by Mrs Corail...

"Do you have appetite?" the doctor went to the next issue. "Even if the hospital food isn't a fine cooking..."

"Yes. I mean, I have appetite."

"Alain eats everything and never complains," Josh supplied.

"I ask because I heard that you had barely eaten anything before admission," the doctor explained. "I'm glad it's no longer the case. What about your sleeping, then? Have you managed to get some sleep when on ward?"

"Frankly... I've been sleeping like a log here," Alain admitted. "It's quite hard to wake up in the morning. It takes some hour before the drowsiness wears off."

The doctor nodded again. "That's because of your medication. We'll take care of it, don't worry..." she reassured him. "Yes, I heard from the staff you've been sleeping well and eaten regularly. Have you been greatly bothered by lack of physical activity? As I mentioned, I hadn't expected your condition to stabilize so fast... Otherwise, I would have given you a permission to go outside," she added in an apologetic voice, then put the note on the table and shifted in her armchair. "But it's no use regretting it now. Let us focus on the present. We have to talk about your illness and make a treatment plan. Do you have any suggestion?" she asked crisply.

"I'd like to go home," Alain replied, looking her in the eye. "I feel really well," he assured.

"I suppose so," she said, clasping her hands. "But I promised Joshua that we would talk about your diagnosis. Besides, I guess you have some questions, too...?"

Hesitantly, Alain nodded; maybe he didn't want to be considered a dimwit who wasn't interested in his own health - although, in Josh's eyes, he rather seemed someone who wanted to leave all that behind. Well, it wasn't anything surprising; Josh knew from theory that the basic drive of human psyche was constant aiming at a better state, seeking for homoeostasis. Maybe it was like running away, too, but on the other hand... quite natural behaviour. In Alain's case, it could also be that talking with Josh had already helped him accept his condition from a week ago - as much that he didn't feel any need to return to that. Both options were completely understandable.

The doctor gave Alain a direct look. "Mr Corail, you suffered from what we call psychosis," she said. "You experienced distortion of your sense of reality in the form of delusions I already mentioned about. Your brain was producing thoughts that had no objective, external ground yet were completely true for yourself. I'm speaking of your belief that you were in danger while there was none. Now you don't have any feeling of being threatened, do you?"

"I don't," Alain replied, shaking his head.

"We don't know why a person develops psychosis," the doctor continued in a neutral voice. "There are probably numerous causes and different mechanisms for it. In your case, Mr Corail, I suspect the long recuperation after your pneumonia, when you were confined to your home and didn't contact with the external world, can be hold responsible. Let me make sure... You don't use any psychoactive substance?"

"No."

"And you have no chronic diseases?"

"As far as I know, no."

"And you haven't undergone any psychiatric treatment before?"

"No."

"Then, do you have any relatives that have or had a mental disease, or have undergone any psychiatric treatment, or have committed suicide?"

Alain hesitated. "I... don't know my father," he replied quietly. "Nor his family. However, my mother has never mentioned anything like that... and I think she would've told me... more than willingly," he added bitterly.

The doctor nodded; she already knew that from Josh, but it was another thing to hear that from the examined person himself. She adjusted her glasses and put her hands on her lap again. "In that case, the most probable option is that your psychosis was a single episode that had been caused by a certain factor, both physical and psychological: your grave illness due to infection and long convalescence. Moreover, Joshua told me that his studying, that had taken a lot of your quality time, might have contributed to it as well, as could the events from your holiday in February. However, let me stress that we cannot speak of anyone being at a fault," she looked at Josh before returning to Alain. "Mr Corail, do you consider yourself as a person who finds it difficult to trust other people and who easily suspects other of bad intentions?"

Alain knitted his brows. "I... Yes, it may be so," he answered after a moment of thinking.

"With such character, you may be prone to persecutory delusions, just like you experienced during that episode," the doctor said in a serious voice, although she probably didn't want to scare him; warn, at most. "And now the other essential thing. I don't diagnose you with any mental illness, although I did suspect some at the beginning." Alain only blinked, while Josh breathed a sigh of relief. "Your symptoms developed over a short period of time and quickly resolved due to treatment, and there are no grounds for diagnosing any chronic disease. In epicrisis, I'll write, _F23.3 Acute predominantly delusional psychotic disorder_ , and I plan to discharge you in one week," she announced.

Alain stared at her mutely. Apparently, he waited for more and was right to do so, for the doctor kept speaking, "I suppose it sounds good to your ears, but now comes the most important matter... Well, two matters, precisely. There's no guarantee that those symptoms wouldn't recur - soon, next year, or ten years from now. We can't do anything about it. I only ask you to be aware of it and maintain a healthy lifestyle, take good care of yourself. Get enough sleep, don't overwork, avoid excessive stress," she recommended. "That's the best way to preserve good mental condition. As for now... Mr Corail, I'm going to present you my plan, and you're going to tell me what you think about it. I'd like to meet you again tomorrow and have a longer conversation, for it hasn't been possible until now. Also, I'll give you two questionnaires and ask you to fill them up; we're going to discuss the answers tomorrow. Moreover, you'll have a head imaging, that is: magnetic resonance that we do in every first-timer, mostly as an exclusion of other causes of symptoms. It's a painless examination that-"

"I had a magnetic resonance of head a few years ago," Alain interrupted; he seemed to slowly get tired of this talk, especially once he'd learned the most important thing. Josh suppressed his smile and sent him a telepathic thought to bear with it for a little longer.

"In that case, there's no need for me to explain it to you. After we talked," the doctor glanced into her diary, "at one o'clock, I'll let you go home. However," she raised one hand to stop any premature comments, "I'm not discharging you yet. We just want to make sure that your state isn't going to change in your home conditions. It was at home that you developed your symptoms, so returning there may possibly activate them again, although I suppose the disease is past you. At the same time, I'm going to reduce your dose. At present, you're taking five milligrammes in the morning and fifteen in the evening. I'm deleting that morning dose, so you're going to take the medication only in the evening. It should make you more energetic in the morning, without that drowsiness you've mentioned."

"It's a good news," Josh said, looking at Alain.

"For the time of your 'leave', you'll be given the medication from the ward," the doctor informed. "Take them as prescribed: fifteen milligrammes every evening before sleep," she emphasized. "You probably have already noticed that medication induces sleep...? We have fixed times of medication on our ward, so you get the evening dose at eight p.m., but at home you may take it later. The hour isn't that important; what counts is a regular intake."

"Of course, Doctor," Josh replied for Alain, whose expression clearly indicated he didn't see any need to take drugs whatsoever. Josh intended to make sure that the medication was taken like it should, and as frequent.

"On Friday, Mr Corail, I want to see you here again. Of course, you're both welcomed," she gave Josh a warm look. "You're going to tell me about 'the leave': was everything all right or have anything happened, and so on. If everything _is_ fine, I'll reduce your dose once more, to ten or seven and half milligrammes, I don't know it yet. And I'll send you home again. We'll meet next Monday," she marked it in her diary again, "and, according to this plan, it will be out last meeting."

The silence fell again. Josh hoped he would remember all those arrangements.

"Why do we need all that?" Alain finally asked, although it was clear he felt a bit apprehensive about it.

"We need that to ascertain beyond doubt that your symptoms won't recur once we reduce the dose," the doctor replied right away. "It is thanks to this medication, in the first place, that your delusions receded and your sense of reality was restored. If I'm correct, the symptoms shouldn't recur, but my experience makes me proceed with caution. The alternative is that you stay on the ward all that time, while I don't suppose you to prefer that...?"

Alain said nothing, for it was obvious.

"I don't think that two visits here are a big problem...?" the doctor inquired.

Josh held back another smile. "Of course not, Doctor. We're going to be here both on Friday and next Monday. We even have a direct metro," he said. "Right, Alain?"

Alain stared at the doctor for a while and then nodded.

"I was certain we could talk like adults," the doctor stated with a smile.

"And that medication... I mean, later...?" Alain asked; apparently, he showed some interest in it, after all... or he just didn't like taking pills.

"I'm glad you ask about it," the doctor appreciated his curiosity. "Well, the next Monday, if everything is fine, I'll write you a prescription for one pack. It's a one month dose. I'm not diagnosing you with a chronic mental illness requiring a long-term pharmacotherapy, so I think we'll be able to discontinue the treatment after one month. Of course, we'll remain vigilant for recurrence of symptoms... but that is a task for the two of you, especially Joshua. Still, there is no point in taking the medication you don't need, and that's why we agree for one month, and no longer. I suppose you can accept it? Please, tell me how all that sounds to you."

Alain mused for a moment and then said, "Fine. I accept that plan."

"I also think it sounds very good," Josh supplied, relieved at Alain's reaction.

"I'm glad," the doctor said. "If anything happens during your 'leave', anything, you can always... no, you _should_ come back on the ward. Formally, you are still a patient, so in emergency, we have the authority to bring you here. What is the most crucial is your co-operation and honesty. Can I trust you, Mr Corail?" she asked, looking at him over her glasses.

Alain gulped. "Yes."

"Great," the doctor nodded. "Then, we have a plan that satisfies all three of us. Are there any other matters you'd like to discuss? Any questions, comments? Or everything is clear...? I ask especially you, Mr Corail. No? Then, let me add that you shouldn't feel... how can I put it... depressed due to that disease and treatment. I say it because many people consider psychiatric treatment as something to be ashamed of, while these diseases are just like others. The most important thing is that you've recovered. You should be happy about it," she said with emphasis.

Alain nodded; he didn't look like a person ashamed of his staying in an asylum. Well, Josh thought, he didn't really have an insight on his illness, so he probably hadn't even accepted - deep inside - being here. However, Josh didn't believe any problems to arise from that, especially that, as the doctor had said, Alain was recovering. Maybe they would even laugh at all that, one day...

"If you have no questions, then I thank you," the doctor got up and stretched her hand to Alain. "We see each other tomorrow at one p.m.," she reminded and turned to Josh. "And we see each other on Friday."

The session was finished, then, and it had been very fruitful, too. Josh was satisfied and supposed he wasn't alone feeling this way, although, when they left the room and turned behind the corner, Alain said quietly, "What a gorgon."

Josh burst out laughing. "She seems quite knowledgeable about her stuff to me."

"Too much," Alain muttered. "Does she really think I'm going to brag about having been in a madhouse?"

Josh grinned. "Well, I think it can have its uses."

Alain looked at him, raising his eyebrows. "Like what?" he asked sceptically.

"Some people would definitely keep away from you," Josh explained. "I hope that at least one of them will do so," he added, recalling Francis... But he didn't plan to bother his head about Francis on such a happy day. "Why don't we go for a walk?" he suggested since they finally had such a possibility.

Alain nodded, so they left for a stroll on the park-like hospital grounds. The staff requested that they returned by four o'clock, when the dinner was served, so they spent almost three hours in the open. The weather was fine, more summer than spring already, even though it was only beginning of May. Alain grumbled he could go home already, but Josh reminded him patiently that they'd arranged it for tomorrow, and tomorrow was coming very soon.

He left at four already, for he had his first exam the next morning and wanted to revise the material once more. On the corridor, before they rang the bell to the ward, they risked a stealthy kiss that was a promise of what waited for them tomorrow. Josh had no idea how it affected Alain, but he was so dazed on his return way that, had anyone asked him what the developmental psychology was, he would have answered that it had happened on 14 July 1789. Speaking of what, he overshot his station and had to go back. However, it was a very pleasant daze, and he didn't quite remember the last time he had experienced it. Today, for the first time in a while, he could enjoy his life again. He could be happy about his exam tomorrow, and the other one next week. About his upcoming practice and vacation. About spring turning into summer. About Alain recovering and coming home tomorrow. He felt so energetic that he ran up almost to the fourth floor - and he even didn't meet any problematic people on the stairs.

Life could be beautiful.

* * *

When the next afternoon they stepped into the flat, and the door shut behind them, Josh ceased remembering anything, his mind filled with just one thought: he had Alain by his side again. At once, the whole desire welled up in him, even that unconscious from the last weeks, so he pressed against Alain and kissed him greedily, desperately, pleadingly. Whatever Dr Sellier believed, he still blamed himself for Alain's disease, and he promised himself to never neglect him again. Alain embraced him and returned the kiss - and the world became perfect again.

They were standing in the hall unable to part, although Josh was under the impression they should go to the bedroom. Finally, they managed to take out their shoes and - on the way there - most of their clothes. The curtains were drawn back, but they didn't care about it. Josh threw off the rest of his clothing and laid down on the bed, reaching for Alain in an inviting way. Alain moaned, quickly got undressed and joined him, sinking in his arms. If Josh had wondered about Alain missing him before, now he no longer had any doubt - and it filled him with such happiness he thought he wouldn't be able to contain it... but soon such rubbish evaporated from his mind when Alain found the way to him and was inside him already, lighting the sparks in Josh's head with every move of his hips, his kisses stealing every moan Josh couldn't - didn't want to - hold back. Alain still remembered... knew... how to do it... how to turn Josh into liquid gold... and mould in his own way... in the universe with nothing existing but the two of them... and light... everything turned into the light...

When he was slowly regaining his senses - in the bedroom filled with afternoon sunlight and with Alain in his arms - he realized that maybe for such moments it was worth to experience hardship, too. And even if he'd do anything to spare Alain any hardship, now, in this blissful hour of May, he was able to embrace the sense of life and accept even its darkness and sorrow.

"Welcome home," he whispered in Alain's hair. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm back," Alain said in a soft voice. "Let me stay here."

Josh hugged him tighter and smiled. His heart was overflowing with love.

"Then stay."

* * *

 _Millenium, "Back to Myself Part I"_

* * *

 **The End of Part III**


End file.
